An Old Man in an Old Land
by Littleswiss
Summary: Geralt of Rivia, almost retired Witcher, find himself somewhere which is strange and familiar at the same time. He will see a land wounded and people trying to survive for the day.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: A Old Man in a Wounded Land**

"Ciri!" shouted Geralt as he ran, sword out and glinting from the fire of the monster's breath.

The almost-dragon creature heaved and fire was born. A jet of amber flames passed by him as he dodged, albeit not gracefully. Hitting the ground with a thud, the Witcher got up as fast as possible and saw an opening when the monster that tried to burn him to a crisp had his attention elsewhere, trying to follow a young lady with ashen hair and emerald eyes. Each time she appeared and disappeared with flashes of the same color as her eyes.

Yellow eyes like the ones of a cat had their pupils expanded to adjust to the shadow of the trees. They moved, following the movement of the muscles hidden behind a strong armor of scales, as thick as plates of the strongest of steel. There! Just next to a particular big scale, there was a hole, a space that was needed for the creature to move. Without it, the monster would an invincible and immovable ball of anger and fire. Placing his free hand into the appropriate sign, Geralt covered himself with a tint of orange.

"Geralt! There!" Shouted the young woman that was his daughter in all but blood.

He didn't responded and just pounced with all the strength his legs could mutter. His boots crunched old leaves and small stones. The creature tried to eat Ciri, clomping instead empty air. A frustrated growl escaped the maw filled with ivory daggers. The Witcher had to jump if he wanted to reach the weak point. And that was he did. Bracing himself for the rodeo that was surely to take place, he gripped a set of hardened scales while he plunged his silver sword into the gape. It dived almost to the hilt but not completely. A mixture of blood and poison started to flow.

As soon as Geralt had plunged his sword, the creature went almost completely erect at first, before the shakes started to happen. The white-haired man gripped for dear life as the monster moved with a frenzy. It could feel the poison slowly starting to course through its veins.

The Witcher had a grip of iron, but wasn't enough and with a new sudden change of direction, he was thrown away, with a sword less. The almost invisible shield flashed in a short tempest of amber as it absorbed the shock of the fall.

"Geralt!" shouted again Ciri as she saw him fell.

With reflex born through experience backed by old and almost forgotten mutation, the Witcher got back up quickly. A hate filled-gaze zeroed on him as red eyes looked at him. Even though the poison that coated the blade of his silver sword was starting to have an effect, it wasn't potent enough to slow the beast down. And so, with a great bellow that shook Geralt to the bones, it charged.

Each feet were like a small earthquake as the monster ran for the Witcher. Swearing under his breath, Geralt ran as well, trying to dodged the incoming wall of angry teeth and claws.

"Oh no, you don't!"

With those words, Ciri, with fury, appeared next to the still stuck sword of her adoptive father. With a mighty cry that challenged the pure animalistic roar of the monster, she made her sword join Geralt's. However, that wasn't what she all did. While fluorescent green light and a voice that was like chorus, Ciri made her blade a lot longer. An emerald spear poked from the other side of the creature. This effect of this sudden magical intervention was the also sudden killing of the monster. While it was still charging. So, Geralt had to dodge not a mountain of bright scales ready to butcher him, but a sac of dead meat thrown at high velocity. However, since the danger wasn't alive anymore, it couldn't adjust its path anymore. So, Geralt placed himself quickly on the side and dodge the monster that crashed against a grove of tree, uprooting them.

Panting and holding a hand against his bruised side, the Witcher made his way towards the just-now fresh carcass. He had to step up a leg of the monster to retrieve his sword. Gripping the handle with two hands, he pulled and with a squelching sounds of flesh, Geralt had his sword made of silver once again. The beast that he and Ciri just slayed could be described as a "big fucker", as Lambert would put it.

The monster shared a lot of similitude with a dragon except for one, wings. With scales kissed by the sun, an enormous head with a mouth just as big, the almost-dragon was enormous. Great horns of red jutted from its scalp and a strangely blue tongue laid on the ground. It could be confused by ignorant people for the legendary golden dragon. But Geralt knew very well that the beast standing before him was not one. He had personal experience on the subject.

"I have never something like this before," said Ciri as she walk to be by his side while putting an unruly theft of ashen hair behind her ear. "Even from my traveling, while being hunted. Do you possibly have an idea on what it could be?"

"No. Same as you, hasn't seen it before," answered Geralt. "But I'm sure about one thing, it was really pissed off. Probably territorial"

"Almost certainly, you mean. We just arrived in these woods and it almost attacked us immediately when he scented us."

"Doesn't matter," said Geralt as a pained grimaced painted his face. "We fulfilled our contract. Now, we must get our reward." he added after taking a trophy as proof of their success.

He knew that she was giving him a concerned stare as he made effort to not limp. But he ignored it, as well as the weariness he was feeling inside his bones.

With Ciri in his steps, Geralt of Rivia went out to collect what was promised.

* * *

"That all?" drawled Geralt when he saw the pay for slaying the strange monster with a raised eyebrow, which was deemed as intimidating by the man who had asked specifically for him.

"Do not take it as an insult, Master Witcher," said rapidly the contractor, a man with a round face and black eyes. " 'tis what I can only afford for your master work."

The excuse was hollow to Geralt's ears and as well as Ciri's, who threw a look that conveyed precisely what she was thinking. The man was a merchant. The faint smell of spices reeked out of his clothes. He could pay more without any trouble. Geralt thought that with his reputation, here in Toussaint, the man in front of him would know that Geralt didn't like bad payer, even more so when they could afford to pay a bit more if the job was more than it seemed at first.

The man was going to argue a bit further but when confronted by the yellow eyes that seemed to borrow deep inside of him. The man finally cracked when the smallest of emerald wisps seemed to pour out of Ciri. It added to the somber air surrounding the young woman with the hood obscuring her traits.

"You win!" almost shouted the merchant. "Just take your money and please, do not hurt me!"

This was punctuated by him shoving coins in the arms of Geralt. It was so sudden that some of them were now on the earthly ground. The door was shut and Ciri helped him to scoop the fallen coins.

"Have you seen his face?" laughed Ciri as she placed the last coins into a bag.

Geralt shared her merriness with a smile. As they walked towards their waiting horses, they didn't said anything. Once one their respective saddle, both of them commanded their horse to the road.

"The little wisps always work like a charm," said Ciri as she once again tried to put a lock of hair behind her ear. "Even the men back at the court now to shut up if they appear."

The happy look on Ciri's face died when she realized the words she just said. Geralt's mood was dampened a little as well.

"Well, I suppose all good things must have an end," she added a bit somberly.

"They do not have to end now, though;" added Geralt. "You can stay a little bit. Barnabas told me this year wine will be exceptional."

Ciri frowned her eyebrows as she weight her option while her horse followed Geralt's Roach, 2nd of her Name in the Principality of Toussaint. Her green eyes looked at her adoptive father before fixing the air.

"Bah! They can wait a little bit longer! An hour or two more is nothing." she dismissed.

"Glad to have you here." Geralt said to her.

"Gald to be here with you."

Both of them passed the rest of the way telling and retelling each other old stories that bought smiles and laughs about old times. When they entered Geralt's land, they were greeted by rows upon rows of grapevines. Most of the plants didn't have their fruit anymore. Only a few still had some grapes dangling from their branches. The sun had started to relinquish his mastery of the sky to the approaching night. Although, it had a long way to go before the earth will be plunged into darkness.

A bald man, with small glasses posed on the bridge of his nose and wrinkles adorning his aging face, appeared by the front door of the grand manoir and bowed.

"Master Geralt, your Majesty." he saluted both.

"Barnabas, you know I don't like that." admonished Ciri without any real heat behind her words.

"My apologies, Miss Cirilla"

That little exchange between the two was always a small source of harmless conflict each time Ciri visited. When she had the _time_ to visit, which she had little to none.

"Now, I think you may be thirsty after your little work. Give me your horses and wait for me at the dinner table, after you cleaned yourselves of the grime, of course."

Geralt and Ciri left their mounts to the care of the majordomo and went inside. Each soon entered a separated room to change out of their dirty clothes. Sponges, buckets with clean and soaps had already been prepared for them in advance.

With movements that were automatic, Geralt undressed himself. This routine which had been almost daily during a sizable part of his life now took place less and less often. The last time was almost a year ago, when a couple of farmers, elected by their village, went to Geralt's door to beg for his aid against a sudden surge of lycanhtropes that touched their part of Toussaint.

The Witcher was going to grab a fresh pair of clothes once in his underwear when he caught his reflection in the mirror of the room. The year had been kind to Geralt since he "officially" retired. A little to good, nagged the memory a familiar voice smelling of lilac and gooseberries. A sigh escaped his lips.

"Are you still hanged up on the fact you're fat now?" said Ciri from the other side of the door, already finished.

"I'm not fat," responded Geralt lowly.

"Keep telling yourself that." she almost laughed.

Geralt snorted at the comment and dressed quickly, after having rapidly passed the sponge on his body.

"You know, maybe you should cut back on the wine-testing."

He looked at Ciri, not amused by her continued remark about his marginal weight gain. It was with a shared smile that the both of them entered the dining room, where Barnabas was waiting for them, with a bottle ready to be poured in two beautiful glasses. They sat down and took the glasses that were expertly filled by the majordomo. Ciri hold her wine like a lady, which she realized and frowned but didn't try to correct herself.

"To you," she said as she approached her wineglass.

"To me," answered Geralt with a not-at-all hidden smile. "To you," he added after the affronted look sent by Ciri.

Both sipped and made their drink danced on their palate, before after some time, they spitted in a recipient specially made for this purpose.

"I must say it isn't bad at all."

"I am honored by your comment, Miss Cirilla. And what do you think of this year's vintage, Master Geralt?"

He didn't answered right, as he took a second sip which he swallowed this time.

"It is good. Though it could wait a few more years. What?" said Geralt when Ciri looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

She tried to hid her snort but it was for nothing. Gerlat rolled his eyes and finished his glass before giving it back to Barnabas.

"Since when did you become a wine snob?" asked Ciri as the majordomo went to clean the glasses, after taking a sip himself.

"After years of living with vineyards surrounding me," deadpanned the Witcher.

"Anyway, when the wine will be ready, I will command barrels, around ten of them probably." She said.

"Your command will be our priority, Miss Cirilla. What do you think of the name 'Brightscale' for this year, Master Geralt?"

"You have been listening on us, B.B?"

"And I am sorry for this. However, the story of your slaying of the strange beast was very interesting. And I am not the only one in the know. At this hour, the villages around from here should have heard of it." explained Barnabas.

Well, at least it will not have any impact on his reputation. Even after his retiring, it was known he wasn't someone to be trifled with, thought Geralt.

"Speaking if it," added Ciri, "Do you think it came after The Conjunction?"

"Probably. Though it took its sweet time to make waves if it was the case."

"That what I was thinking too. It cannot be a new one. There would have been a lot more signs and the mages back at the court would be in a frenzy. Any strange things happening recently?"

Geralt put his hand on his chin, thinking. There wasn't a lot that happened here, in Toussaint. Except of course if you counted the rare monsters that migrated here in search of a fertile lands to feed. With the wandering knights and a Witcher here, they didn't stay long.

"It has been rather foggy those last few days" said Barnabas as he came back from putting the wineglass away.

"It always like that in Toussaint at that time of the year." quickly dismissed Ciri.

Both tried to find a possible explanation but they quickly dropped the subject. Ciri, which had been smiling and in a general good mood until now. Severity painted her face.

"I should get back. We wouldn't want to have a crisis in the court of Nilfgaard, would we?" she announced to the two men.

"Yes, you probably should. But now this..."

"That I will always be welcome in your home. I know that, Geralt." she interrupted him with a smile that he soon shared.

Both got up from their chair and walked until they were in front of the front door, outside. Barabas was with her horse and had her belongings ready.

"I'm going to miss you," she said to him as sadness took control of her expression.

"I'm going to miss you too."

After hugging one another, Ciri mounted her horse, made it walked a bit and then, in a shower of emerald light, they disappeared. Both master and majordomo look at the empty air where Ciri teleported.

"Would you care to have supper, Master Geralt?" asked Barnabas.

"Shouldn't she retire?"

"You know as well as me than Madame de Trastamara cannot, will not and want not to stop being a chef," flatly replied Barnabas.

"Don't I know it."

It was when the sun approached the horizon and that the night crawled in that Geralt was sitting as his table, eating a delicious meal, thinking about the daughter he missed, even after having her here for almost the entire day. He was the only occupant at the dinner table. Barnabas was standing near him, should he require anything, as he had already eaten for the night. As Geralt brought a sliver spoon to swallow a soup made with spices, his eyes traveled down to meet the medallion that was currently hanging from around his neck. The snarling wolf sported now the trace of time. Some of its edge at a bit of rust. It had been dangling aouround his neck almost all the time before he received this patch of land as a gift. It now spend the majority of its time a box, near his bed. If things continued to be like this, he would be the first Witcher to die in his bed. Which, when he tought about it, didn't sounded that bad. Well, except that he was the sole occupant of his bedroom, most of the time.

After finishing his meal, Geralt prepared himself for bed. As he was about to put on his night gown, something stop him in his action. The smallest of tremble taking place on his breast made him look down, at his pendant which now shook itself. Instinct ingrained in him made him quickly put on his armor and search for his sword. The clinking he made while dressing up alerted Barnabas that something was amiss.

"What is the problem? Should we take refuge in the bunker?"

"Do that. Do not forget Marlene as well."

"It will be done. What about you, Master Geralt?"

The Witcher made a thin line with his lips as the shaking of his medallion become more noticeable.

"Quick, get down there!"

Without arguing, the majordomo went to search for the cook of the manor. Geralt, ready to draw blade, opened the door of his house. What greeted him was a fog not like any other he had seen. Thick blanket of white approached quickly, engulfing everything. The medallion had now almost-like seizures.

He took just a few steps as to not be too far from the manor. Something told him he should no lost himself into the all-encompassing mist. The sounds of moving barks and cracking trees filled his ears as he concentrated trying to ear if something was approaching since with a mist as thick as this, his eyes wouldn't be of any help.

Things got worse when he looked behind him to see only white. The manor, and its remaining inhabitants had vanished without a sound and without alerting him.

"Barnabas! Marlene!" he shouted to empty air. The white smoke eat his thrown words.

He could try to retrace his taken steps which should bring him back to his house, but it didn't. Where should have been the entrance to his manor, there was only grass and stones. He shouted once again the names of his companion in vain.

"Ciri!"

No answer. There was only him in this wet weather. The wolf-head kept vibrating. So much so it seemed it was going to explode. Geralt kept trying to find his home with his other senses, but his smell was only filled with mosses and trees. He walked in what felt like circles and no matter which direction he took, there was only the mist and him.

Fear tried to ensnare him. It didn't succeed.

* * *

Time seemed to be just a vague idea in this foggy land. It felt like hours as well as just minutes since the Witcher found himself lost. His brow was wet, his hair were stuck on his forehead and his hand refused to let go of his sword. These woods he was now inside of were not normal.

Old memories of when he met Ciri were brought back. A forest, similar in some point to this one, where its inhabitants tried to distance themselves from Men. The similarities made his eyes twitch.

The nervousness in his muscles wasn't helped by the wooden giggling which appeared on his left, right, and behind him. More than once he suddenly turned around only to find nothing but a misty tree.

His boots crunch grass and leaves. The sound were like reverberated to his frayed senses. After going around a tree which had possibly been sculpted to represent a snarling monstrous face, Geralt was now in a clearing. The mist inside was less thick and he could see the other side of the clearing. He stopped when he saw what was waiting for him.

In the middle of it was a wolf with fur like gold and only one eye. It was sitting with an almost regal look. But wasn't it uncommon color that made Geralt stop. It was the ethereal quality of it. The animal didn't make any moves at first and only got up on his four legs when he advanced a bit. Even on four legs, the wolf wasn't in any aggressive posture.

It changed, however. As soon as Geralt tried to go around the wolf, it jumped at him. By reflex, the Witcher met him with his blade and it was then darkness enveloped him before he woke up while standing on clouds. Surrounding him was some ruins of a distant civilization where only a fraction of their kingdom remained.

Instead of the wolf, there was now an undead in the form of a tall skeleton wearing an old and broken golden armor covered in moss. Some part of it had signs painted in red. The skull of the monster was mostly empty except for one eye socket. There was an eye shining like a ruby that looked at him not with hate nor any other strong negative emotions, but with a cold and calculating gaze only found in old veterans.

" _Unwanted invader. Begone to where thou are from_ ," It said with a voice coming straight from a grave.

It could speak which could be a good thing since it implied the creature was capable of reason. What was not good was ready stance it took with its sword and shield.

"I didn't mean to be here," tried to appease Geralt.

His words didn't stop the skeleton from taking a position, but it did stop it from outright attacking him. The eye which didn't leave him looked at him, going from his face to his feet as well as stopping at his arms. The monster was judging him. The tension evaporated from the skeleton, although it didn't put away his arms.

" _Thou speak no lie, unwanting invader_ ," it concluded. " _Yet thou are still here, lost in these woods_."

"Do you know a way out?" asked Geralt.

Since the skeleton was the only thing that he met face to face and that it was most likely it had a lot of experience, the Witcher assumed it was his only ticket out of wherever he was in.

"I do. However, though shalt prove your worthiness before crossing the Gate of the Other"

"Of course there is a duel," snorted Geralt as he glided his sword out of its sheath.

" _Thou shalt duel me, the Shade of a Hero long past_ ," declared the undead.

The Hero's Shade placed his own sword in front of him in a salute. Geralt did the same and the both of them approached. Their stance were different. On one side you had Geral's which was lose and ready to pounce in a balance of possibility, where he could go on the offensive or the defensive. He even made a quick sign to engulf himself in an almost invisible barrier. Then you had his opponent, which was a stance that Geralt could recognize some similarities in other style he knew.

None decided to take the first shot. Both walked in circle, gazing each other. Geralt noted that his precedent action hadn't been subtle enough, because he saw the eye moving in its socket, following the rare wisp of magic that appeared around him. Then the Hero's Shade charged, opting for hitting with its shield. Geralt dodge on the side and tried to gain a hit only to touched the shield on which his blade glided. That is when the sword came for his head. The tip almost touched his nose. He heard his _Quen_ crackled.

Geralt immediately disengaged to reassess the situation. What just happened was to close for him. Even if he was back at his prime, this would have been to close for comfort. The skeleton in front of him was really good.

He didn't any more time to think however when the Hero's Shade kept his assault. There was no shield bash, only expert swordplay. For the duration of the exchange, Geralt was on the defensive. It came from high, he parried it. It came from the side, he tried to dodge. It was thrust, he pushed it aside. Geralt couldn't do anything when the shield reentered the fight and made him fly for a short time before he fell on the cloudy floor.

A glint caught his eyes before they expanded when he saw the skeleton in the air, ready to pin him to the floor. Quickly rolling on the side, Geralt managed to avoid having a sword through the stomach. A grand thud accompanied the impact of his adversary. The Witcher had just enough time to get up before the Hero's Shade pulled his sword out of the ground. Then the fight continued.

The fight was like a master teaching a student. However Geralt wasn't the master this time. He had to use multiple times the quen sign to protect himself from a hit that snake its way past his guard. Once more, he had been projected. He managed to roll with the fall this time tough. When he looked at the skeleton, this one managed to surprise him once more. In a quick set of steps, the Hero's Shade was behind him. It had been a blur in the space of a few seconds. And once more, Geralt's magical barrier crackled as he was hit by the rusted sword of his opponent. Frustration accumulated inside of him and when he was up, Geralt let it all out as he cast igni. A shower of sparks and flames appeared from the palm of his hand, hitting in the skeleton in the face. The move surprise it giving an opportunity for Geralt which he didn't waste. He only had a second.

With a movement containing all his force and speed, Geralt thrust his blade through a gape inside of the armor. Once he was inside, the skeleton stopped moving. It wasn't dead because as soon as the peaceful moment ended, it stepped back, letting the Witcher take back his sword.

" _Thou have proven to be worthy, unwanting invader_ ," declared the Hero's Shade. " _You bravery and skill had paid for your way out. You may leave this place alive._ "

At that, the skeleton put away his arms and stepped to the side, where an empty space where there was grass. Before crossing the threshold, Geralt looked one last time at his opponent who looked back at him with its single glowing red eye. The Witcher took a step and everything went white.

* * *

When Geralt of Rivia came to, he found himself in another clearing. But unlike the one where he was attacked by the strange wolf, this one was verdant with plants while the sun kissed his skin. Blinking away the spots that had invaded his vision, he heard curious giggling that seemed to come out of wood. When he looked at his left, something hid quickly with the gasp of a child. It happened again around him.

This was not this which made him turn around but the old cracking of a great tree. His eyes widened when he saw an enormous face stuck to a tree trunk yawned. Eyeless sockets observed hi before words that boomed with wisdom were spoken to him.

"An outsider in these woods?" it asked. "If you are here, it must means you were let passed. Tell me, what is your name?"

Something inside Geralt knew he shouldn't lie or anger the great tree.

"Geralt of Rivia," he answered truthfully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 : Tree-folks and Old Sword**

"You are a strange one, Geralt of Rivia," boomed the great tree. "you look like a man and yet you have magics, some may call foul, coursing through your being. However, do not be intimated. You gave me your name, let me give you mine. I am the Great Deku Tree of the Lost Woods," declared the tree.

As its name reverberated through the clearing, little creatures, that came up to his knees, started to appear. Curious exclamations of "whoa", "Look! Look!" and "Is he a monster?" were heard. The beings, or Tree-folks assumed Geralt, were like a bunch of excited children seeing a strange man in their home. Which they probably were. Their reactions to his appearance was typical for young ones. They were excited and very curious about him, that was for certain but they also were a bit afraid, since none dared to leave the protection of their plants, logs or stones. Except for one who, in a courageous move, decided to leave his stone and walked towards Geralt with its little legs. The little Tree-folk was like the rest, even if their body type and height differed from one individual to another. With a face made out of a big leaf, or maybe it was a mask, the little creature made its way crossing grass which was almost as tall as it. Once it was near Geralt's feet, it grabbed his leg with its stubby little arm that had no hand nor fingers and shook his pants.

"Say, say, Mister, are you a cat?" it asked with a voice that made him look like a five year old.

"Myo, do not bother our guest," admonished gently the Great Deku Tree.

"Oh, oh, sorry." said the little creature made out of wood with a dejected look.

"Please excuse them, Geralt of Rivia. My children, the Koroks, are very curious of any visitor arriving in ours woods," explained the Tree.

"There is no need for that, Great Deku Tree," answered Geralt as he looked at the little Korok walking away.

"Hm, now that the presentation are made, it is time for you to explain your presence in this hidden part of the world."

"I would like to give you an explanation or a reason, however I have none. I do not know why or how. All I know for certain is that I appeared here after getting lost in a strange mist which invaded my land," explained the Witcher.

"Hm, a mist, you say?" The Great Deku Tree pondered for a few moments on what Geralt had revealed. "By any chance, was that mist disorienting? You had the impression of going in circles?"

"Yes, couldn't tell how much time I staid inside of it."

"This is strange. The only fog that acts as you described is the mist of the Lost Woods, which protect us from the danger of the outside. However, if you were inside of it, I would have sensed it. Very curious indeed."

As the Great Deku Tree seemed to reminiscence about something, the glint of reflected light caught Geralt's eyes. Controlling his pupils so that they were at their minimum, he caught the sight of an old blade, eaten by time and use. The surrounding childish chatter faded away as more and more of his attention was pulled toward the sword embedded in stone. Moss covered a bit of the purple handle. Coming from two wings, the blade itself had a symbol engraveed at is beginning. One triangle made out of three. Cracks and rust were here and there. But they were few. Discreet whispers started to speak lowly to his ears with unknown words. Their sonority was a subtle discord of anger and hate so pure someone less experienced than Geralt would have felt like being in the middle of the most terrible of inferno.

"STOP" bellowed the Great Tree, cutting Geralt from the daze that had taken hold of him. "This blade is not YOURS to take," it grumbled darkly.

Geralt would have said something if it wasn't for the stick that hit him at the back of the head, making him lose consciousness once more.

* * *

"Sorry! Sorry! I'm so sorry!" said quickly a childish voice of bells and flutes.

"You may be, but your intervention was unnecessary at all, Myo."

"I know! I know! But he was gonna touch the sword! No one is supposed to touch the sword! 'xept for the Hero!"

At those words a chorus of affirmative voices went to stand with the first, all of them belonging to a child. However each of them had a certain tint in the sounds, making it windy and woody like air passing through a musical instrument. Another chorus, more deep and aged was in disagreement and made it known by harrumphing like drums.

"Even so, the situation was in control, he seems to be a man with a good head on his shoulder. No matter his eyes or hair," said the Great Deku Tree. "Ah, I see that our guest is coming to."

Geralt eyes opened with difficulty. He felt a sort of bandage, made in what felt to be leaves, was dressed on his head. With this many black out couldn't be good for his health. His yellow eyes scanned the room he was in and was surprised to see it packed with myriads of little plant-masks looking at him with the same emotion as the last time. One of them was the more sheepish of the crowd, trying very hard (and making a bad job at it) not looking at him.

"I feel I'm beginning to become tired of fainting," grumbled Geralt as he got up with his elbows.

"Sorry!" exclaimed Myo while shaking like a leaf.

"I'm not angry. Don't worry about that," reassured Geralt with a calming voice. "Anyway, where am I?"

"Inside of me," trembled the walls around him. "Thank you for being forgiving. I hope you understand why Myo reacted like that."

"Yeah," answered the Witcher. "It's the sword, isn't it? Must be really important."

Chuckles invaded the room, coming from all direction.

"To hear you say this with that tone, you must have seen a lot in your life, haven't you?" said the Great Deku Tree, amused.

"You could say that. And you could say this is not my first time being an outsider either."

"Truly? I am sure that you have fountains of stories to tell."

This sentence was the breach for the dam and geyser of supplication for a story exploded. The cacophony was a bit much for his enhanced ears. He was going to shout until the walls shook again, silencing everyone.

"My children, please be considerate of our guest, who seemed to have sensitive ears."

"Thank you," answered Geralt gratefully.

"Can you hear the goddesses speak?" asked a little Korok.

"No."

"Oh." it said dejectedly.

The Koroks, even if their curiosity was at its peak, started to leave, one by one like droplets from a branch after a little rain. The ones which were still present after the grand majority went outside could be counted with one hand. And one was just at his bedside. Two emotions were in conflict into its mask. Annoyance and curiosity. Like any other Koroks Geralt had met until that point, his mere presence had kindled a great inquisitive fire inside these little beings of the woods.

"You want me to leave the bed?"

"Yes. No. Yes….. I don't know!" it cried as it pulled its vines. "The bed was meant for the Hero."

The mention of this almost made Geralt snort. From his experience, a prophetical hero was someone who would fail, because the world wasn't a fairy tail. However, this same experience also told him strange things happened when destiny was involved.

"Then I will leave it."

He could guess the relief when the leaf-visage wrinkled a bit. The nameless Korok, as soon as Geralt got up, jumped and in a flurry of orange and green, changed the bed and a new fresh foliage was now covering the bed.

"You want to eat something, mister Geralt-sir?" squeaked the Korok with a little hat of white while moving its ladle inside a steaming pot.

"Yes, thank you."

"A big bowl coming right up!"

And a big bowl did. What the Witcher had in his hands was soup so thick in cream and fat you could probably clog a hole with it. It didn't stop him from eating it with ravenous hunger. All of what happened to him, all of the blacking out and being lost into the tapestry of time and the caves of space had made him hungry. A thing he had learned about himself after retiring was that having an empty stomach was a sure way of losing one nerve. He didn't care if the little Korok was a mere pretender in the arts of cooking or that it was a living wood creature with magic coursing through it and thus didn't have the same palate as humans. Geralt of Rivia took a second serving then half of a third. The Cook-Korok seemed to shine with pride seeing his cooking being swallowed like water by him.

"Now that you have quelled your hunger, Geralt of Rivia, I think it is time you and I have a talk. Go outside and climb one of my roots," grumbled the walls before everything became calm once more.

The white-haired man wiped the corner of his mouth before addressing the one who fed him.

"My equipment, where is it?"

"Hm? Oh, right there!" it pointed to a corner where his two swords, one of metal and one of silver, laid still in their sheath. "We didn't touch them, because the Great Deku Tree said so."

Grabbing them and putting them on his back where they belong, Geralt adjusted the straps before he crossed the entrance. Light poured into his eyes, green tickled them and warmth caressed his skin. An air of calm entered his lungs as his boots brought him down. Almost of the Korok, young, old, big and small looked at him. The sword which had him entranced was still waiting in its pedestal, waiting for someone.

He knew what to expect and resisted the pull. As per The Great Deku Tree's instruction, Geralt made his way up by climbing on a root which acted like a bridge. From there, there was a little platform for anyone who wanted to meet the master of the woods.

A great face marked by the passing of the ages welcomed him, great bushes of thorns as eyebrow frowned at Geralt's arrival before they settled in a neutral stance.

"Geralt of Riva," greeted the Great Deku Tree. "You are a man out of this world, a man lost and a sailor shipwrecked unto unknown shores. Let me, The Great Deku Tree of the Lost Woods, greet properly into the Old Lands of Hyrule."

This kind of official meeting made the Witcher ticked a bit. Having lived through enough of them to make him almost loath them, him who had an already dislike to them. However, he knew that following them was a sure way of being polite.

"Thank you for this, Great Deku Tree."

It didn't meant he couldn't try to shorten them though.

"I do not know who or what brought you here. Nor why. However, as your host for your time being, let me warn you of what may wait for you in those wounded lands. Monsters roam free, people are scattered to the four winds and Malice is trying to infect all. Should you want to leave the safety of my home, as I think you want, let me grant you boon."

"But..."

"But for receiving it, there one simple condition, should you accept it."

Gerlat didn't answer right away. All the years behind him with their high and low had given him very good insight on precisely what was happening. A broken spoon and a chase for a mirror resurfaced in his memory.

"What is the condition, Great Deku Tree?" asked Geralt while trying to mask his small queasiness.

"It s quite simple. Let me take a look at you."

The Witcher had an idea of what a look meant. He didn't know whether he should accept or not. On one hand, he could stay here until Ciri find him. However, he could not tell how long this would take and even if he was grateful for the hospitality of the Koro and their leader, something made him feel like an intruder. Like the bed, the food and the welcome weren't meant for him.

"I accept your condition, Great Deku Tree."

"I thank you, Geralt, for accepting my simple request," said the tree before being silent.

The sweetness and calmness in the air was sucked out of it. The Koroks went into hiding while still looking at the scene with interest and the sounds of the forest became more prominent. Cracks and whips and whistles became alive as a discrete breeze flowed into Geralt's white hair. The eyes without eyes opened and went down to meet the Witcher's. And they looked at him. Saw him. Saw him. Saw him. SAW HIM.

Geralt's world sank as his muscles became stones. Nothing was responding. He didn't even feel himself breath. A monster not slayed but cured back into a young woman. A being of magic throwing his wrath on a town before being sealed by a last wish. A child's destiny embroiled to his. A tower, an elf before everything blurred until a sharp pain in his torso brought him back. Three fangs of metal had bitten into him. Death and revival and riders of worlds. Lost of memories were retrieved and the search for the child-turned-adult began. A heart of stones and blood in the wine.

The spell stopped with the same violence as it had began and Geralt fell in his knees, trying not to throw up. His hair were stuck to his face, his beard was moist and the rest of his body was completely drenched.

"Hm. What you said was true, Geralt of Rivia. You life was one of torment and love. I am sorry to have put you through that but I had to be sure of your trustworthiness. Even if he let you get here, I had to for the safety of my children."

Geralt understood why the Great Deku Tree had looked at his past. However, he still didn't like it. A bit of bile had managed to escape and was now dropping in the corner of his mouth.

"Let me help you, Witcher," said the master of the Lost Woods.

The air was hold back and a soothing smell of pines and flowers filled Geralt's nose. His aching muscles were calmed. He felt a lot better. He even noticed he was standing a bit straighter than usual. He only noticed now the shaking of his medallion subdue.

"The boon that was promised will be delivered. She waits for you outside of my domain. Take good care of her and she will in return. A pack of supplies will be also given to you to ease your journey."

A Korok, the same chef as before, had with him a satchel that was ready to burst. It struggled to lift it and was determined to bring it to him. Geralt eased its burden. A way was made for him as the see of curious Tree-folks moved out of his way, leading him at the edge of the great clearing.

His feet stopped at a frontier where mist awaited him like a wall of white. A shaking took place as the mist disappeared and the trees parted to let him pass. The safe-passage given to him took a bit of time to traverse. Geralt of Rivia arrived at the edge of the Lost Woods where the sun shined and darkness stopped.

A horse was waiting for him while scratching the road with its hoof impatiently. _She_ , for the horse was a mare, had one of the most common brown coat, mattered by some patch of black. Its mane was what caught most of his attention. It was of the purest white he had seen. It also seemed to shine with ghostly lights.

The mare neighed, presented her nose for some pats, which Geralt gave.

"Good girl."

She needed a name. It wasn't difficult to find one.

"Roach."

With the baptism done, the Witcher mounted on her seat, place his feet in the stirrup and left.

* * *

Wherever he pointed his horse to, the landscape was almost the same as the ones he knew. The difference with the one he was trapped in was the majesty it evoked when he let his yellow eyes wandered. Trees grew around him, the grass was lush and green and the faunas was free of any worry. Deere and does looked at him before fleeing. The beginning of a mountain was on his left as Roach climbed up the road. Even after leaving the Lost Woods, he was still in a forest.

It was quite tranquil. Some brushed bushes were caught by his ears. The sun was still high in the sky, the night would not fall yet before a few hours passed. The road was one made of dirt, which had been stepped on many times, may it by feet, hooves, or others.

The new Roach was a godsend. She listened to his command and stopped whenever he said so. Like right now. Geralt had seen a small hole in the road which had tree toes. However, it was too deep for an individual only. The thing was transporting something. Something that tried to fight back judging by the broken branches and the small drop of blood here and there. Following the trail, Geralt started to hear the oinking of what should be the monster and the insults of its captive.

The Witcher continued his investigation until he found a spot hidden to any eyes, where he could see what the monsters of this world looked like. And they were as ugly as they were grotesque. Big bulbous head with red skin and pig nosed, the monstesr seemed to taunt the woman they had captured. Her hair were as white as his. Like him, she was a warrior. Her eyes were experimented. They weren't yellow and belonging to a cat, but red. If it wasn't for her skin tanned by a life outside, she would have looked like an albino.

While the pig-headed monsters were taunting her by either standing menacingly or thrusting their hips in her direction, the woman tried to fight back. Her focused eyes betrayed it as an act though. She wasn't concerned for her well being nor was she intimidated by the five monster, all armed with old and stolen goods. One even had a mop.

She moved her eyes counting silently if all the monsters were there and once she was sure, everything went very fast. In puff of smoke, she disappeared, leaving her binds behind. The monster stopped what they were doing to look dumbly at the empty spot. The monster with the mop in its hands was the first to die. The woman reappeared over it and plunged a strange knife in its throat. It trashed, trying to get her off. It quickly lost vigor and stopped moving when she widened the wound, letting its crimson blood tainting the grass. It happened in only a second. The four others didn't reacted properly and she was on the move again. She charged with inhuman speed and stabbed another red monster in the throat. She kicked another sending it away and breaking some of its bones and threw the freshly deceased at another, trapping it under its comrade's body.

The rest was quickly put down mercilessly. Blood, teeth and limbs were strewn around in a gory mess. The woman with red eyes cleaned her blade on a patch of clean grass before sheathing it. The way she carried the bodies to put them in a pile before setting it aflame speak of professionalism. She was a monster slayer. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, thought Geralt.

The moment of self-reflection proved to be a lapse in his stealth as the woman went immediately on the defensive, taking out her strange straight blade.

"Come out! I know you are here," she demanded.

Seeing as he was going to come out no matter what, Geralt complied, hands up in a peaceful manner.

"Easy," he started as he took a few steps. "I do not bring trouble."

His appearance had an effect on the woman as she slacked a bit in her position.

"A curse?" he heard her mutter as she looked at his eyes. "State your business." she demanded as he voice became steel once again.

"I only followed the trail thinking thinking that maybe someone might be in need of help."

"You do not lie. Very well, countryman. I hope you find your way home safe and sound."

She didn't say anything else as in a puff of paper and smoke, she was gone, leaving Geralt a bit surprised. He had seen a lot of things, a woman killing everything around her wasn't the strangest. What was strange was the magic used, or what he assumed being magic. As he entered the camp to observe the dead monsters, he thought of her speed. He would have stepped in if it wouldn't have been for it.

This world, even with its similarities, still had surprises to give him. Maybe he will see one of those flying boxes that Ciri still talked about, even years after, he thought with a mocking smile. Ass he whistled for his horse, tainted smoke flew up in the blew sky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 : News to an Old World**

The court of the Nilfgaardian Empire was a place of politics, politics and even more politics, with their barely hidden squabbling nobles that all tried to show off their wealth, power and moral into other. It wasn't a great affair, only words with hidden meanings and barbed insults covered in honey. However, this was truly insignificant when the Empress laid down her words. They were obeyed. And should they be ignored, she didn't miss a chance to let her annoyance show with the barest and swiftest emerald light that escaped her being like a wisp of smoke that disappeared as quickly as it arrived.

It was in such an occasion that the latest noble that tried to argue for a small gesture from her Eminence great mercy in the form of a reduction of his taxes, received it. The noble, from which lot the Empress didn't particularly like, was cowed into submission. Her Majesty wasn't some cruel dictator nor an incompetent puppet. She was a woman with the experience of the terrain and a quick learner. She knew that the taxes weren't that high and weren't going to plunge the province in question into catastrophe (which was thanks to her ears and eyes hidden into the territory and its populace).

The crown, made of gold, other rare materials and jewelry, started to feel heavy and itchy to its wearer. For the whole day had she been at the throne or her private cabinet, listening to report and demands from her subjects. The Sun, great star of yellow, stopped looking at its brethren sewn into the great tapestry of the palace's great hall. It went down as gently as baby being laid down by its loving parent. Darkness would soon be the master of the world for the night until the perpetual cycle continues.

As the cowed man draped in rich clothes left the throne-room, the Empress waited a bit until a member of her personal retinue confirmed that no one else wanted to see the ruler of the Empire. With a tired sigh and cracking her back, her Majesty Cirilla Fiona Elen Rianno, or Ciri for short, felt the weight of the day leaving her shoulders without completely disappearing. The responsibility of her station wouldn't leave her alone, no matter when, where or what she was doing. The only time were she felt as free as possible was when she visited the man that raised her as his own, that taught her how to defend herself from this cruel world, were axes ans swords talked sometimes more than words.

"Your Majesty, should I asked the kitchens to prepare your dinner?", asked a woman, Elri, the one in charge of the castle's staff.

"Not right now, I'm afraid," answered the Empress dejectedly. "I still have reports to read and ordinances to fill."

There was also paperwork, the Beast of Administration, which couldn't be disappeared with a flick of her sword or the power of her magics, no matter how she wanted to be so. It could only be weakened by doing it, stopping it from growing into a truly terrifying monster of enormous proportions. As she got up from the stony chair, she stretched a bit more to get all the kinks away and walked towards her private cabinet. The previous owner, her _father_ , didn't used it anymore. Thinking about that man was a mixed bag of emotions she didn't want to deal with. And the less she could think of the false her, the better.

The torches were lit as burning vigils against the growing dark. Entering her private cabinet, which normally should be too big to be called as such, she went to the table and chair that were waiting for her. And on the ornate piece of furniture was the dreaded white beast, which mocked her with its stillness. With another heavy sigh escaping her lips, Ciri started the pile of paperwork by grabbing the first sheet and a quill. The words bored her and the notes assaulted her eyes. As another parchment was signed and ready to be sent back, she grasped one of the last reports that demanded her attention. It was another report, like the other. However, what wasn't like alike was its content, which made her white eyebrows frown.

 _Your great and powerful majesty_ _Cirilla Fiona Elen Rianno,_

 _it has come to my attention that strange beasts have been sighted on multiple occasions by multiple trustworthy witnesses. They are not like what we have seen before. What the survivors of those encounters could say about them was strange. They described the monsters as giant men with the head of lions and the body of horses._ _If it was only that, it wouldn't be a cause of concern,_ _a few platoons would be sent. No, what is disturbing is the fact that almost all that had_ _met_ _them perished under their savage blows and barbaric weapons of great destruction._ _Even trained professional, such as the garrison west of Caravista was felled into battle against_ _one of_ _the beasts._ _Which is a cause for concern since it could block one of the passages to Toussaint._

 _Your humble servant,_

 _Count Palatin Nicolaï Ylgrat Bustov._

Empress Ciri reread the report before she deigned to think about the report's sender. A probable suitor which knew that she wasn't looking for one. But alas, she was the Empress and hadn't had an heir nor a husband since her coronation. Her celibate was like a trail of blood for wolves which harassed her with uncountable letters of prose and gifts from around the empire and beyond. But this wasn't on her mind right now. What was made her pause and think was the beast described in the letter and showed in the drawing that accompanied the report. The person which drew had done it with the best of their abilities, following the descriptions of the few survivors and so, had draw the monster with most authenticity possible. And the result was frightening with realism.

A furred body rippling with muscles so thick that just a spasm could break a man in half, a head like a lion with hate filled eyes. A man-torso fused with the body of a gigantic horse. The beast that was facing her on the paper didn't wear armor, only a plate to cover its decency. And the weapons, in particular the sword, it bear were big enough that cutting a full protected knight and its armored horse in two didn't seemed to be impossible; it even seemed to be more than likely the case.

If it was only one beast that the letter reported, it wouldn't be that much of a problem. However, what was mentioned was _multiple_ ones. And the fact it took only _one_ to wipe out a garrison was worrisome indeed. After thinking about what should be done and writing new orders concerning this new developments, she finally finished her work as the Empress for the day. Well at least she hoped since she could be called at any moment should an emergency.

Elri entered the cabinet precisely as Cirilla finished putting in order her desk.

"Your dinner is ready for you, your Majesty," she said to her.

"It seems so," responded Ciri as she got up.

"Should I request a bath to be made for you while you are eating?"

"Gods, I would love it," muttered the Empress, which was caught by her servant. "And add the new soap I imported from Zerrikania. While am I at it, please put a glass of wine with the bath, I think I will need it with the day I just add."

"It will be done, your Majesty."

* * *

The meal had been fulfilling and warm. However, the true source of her well-being was the hot water she had immersed herself in. The room which contained her bath was more akin to a bathhouse in itself than just a tub. She could dive until just the top of her ashen-haired head was over the water. She could even take a few breaststrokes if she wished, The mist and vapes that escaped the water snaked into the perfumed air which came from the Zerrikanian soap. And standing at the edge of the bath was the glass of wine Ciri had requested. With the bottle.

The Empress went from one side to the other, toward the glass and once she was sure she wasn't going to loose her footing, she took a sip of the delicious drink. It was coarse and strong with a note of sweetness that came after which calmed the aggression of the first few seconds. It wasn't a wine that you could drink in one go, it was one where you had to take your time savoring it. The red-tainted green eyes that looked back from the red liquid made her think of herself at another place where the wine had a special something that she couldn't find anywhere else. Family. Ciri could see with clarity the fear in the yellow eyes as she battle the monstrous lizard. She could see the yellow scales and its strange red horns. It had been a strange creature it was true. However, it died like the rest.

Before she could continue her remembrance, the memory attached to the dragon-like creature made her stop. The creature she and Geralt had faced wasn't anything they had even seen. And even after she came back from her trip, she searched through the libraries and found nothing. She even asked her staff to help her but the search had been fruitless. The only thing of note was the remark Barnabas had made. The fog. However it hadn't been particularly foggy during her stay at Geralt's estate. Maybe there would be more information on strange mist. With new determination to satisfy her curiosity, Ciri drowned her glass of wine and got out of her bath.

The guards that were posted on either sides of the doors straightened themselves before following their Empress, which hair were still damp as it let fall a few drops into the cold stone of the ground. Ciri walked with a purpose towards the imperial library of the castle. It was too dark to read, even with the help the torches or candles. However, she didn't need those to read.

Entering the great library, she immediately searched the place, still being followed by her escort. They didn't say much, until one tried to complain when Ciri shoved a pile of books in his arms. However he quickly decided otherwise when his partner threw him enormous eyes. He still didn't say anything when they approached a table big enough to put all of the books on it. Choosing a tome, Ciri opened it and quickly searched. A guard tried to help her by holding a candle.

"No need for that, thank you."

It was then she started to emit a soft glow her body before it traveled up towards her head where it shined with enough force to light the whole table, making reading with ease possible. The casual act of magic surprised her guards. Their slight terror was quickly hidden behind a mask of professionalism. The Empress, putting a lock of ashen hair behind her ears, went to work with a focus that could have surprised even herself if she paid attention. It was as if there was a primal urge to find more, a need to know fed by a fear well hidden in her unconsciousness. A fear for her family.

Alas, relevant information she did not find. No matter how many books, tomes and parchments she dissected with her emerald eyes. Time was lost to her. It stopped existing as she searched and researched. She passed from one text to another. She did not even noticed when she sent her bodyguards to fetch more books. Pages of papers glided in front of her. It was only the breaking of dawn that broke her out of her trance. The morning star shined upon her scarred face, showing that time continued to turn with or without her notice. It was at that time she realized the sleeping form of her retinue, the two of them were passed out on a couple of chairs, their weapons were laid by their side.

"How long was I here?" she asked to herself in a not-so-quite whisper, which managed to wake up the bodyguards in the silent library.

"We weren't asleep, your Majesty!" shouted in panic the guard on the right, "we were simply resting our eyes. Yes."

"As my partner just said, Empress Cirilla"

The excuse was hollow and full of lies. However, she could not blame them for their mistake. She had been the whole night in a second state, feverishly searching throughout the shelves.

"There is nothing to pardon," she said reassuringly. "You can go search for your replacements."

"We cannot, my Lady. It wouldn't be right to leave your here all alone" declared the first guard.

"Nonsense. And it is a direct order as your Empress" countered Ciri before the other one could add to the argument. "Now go."

With a pained expression on their faces, the guards left with a hurry in their steps. When they disappeared from view, Ciri's eyes went back to the heap of papers in front of her. There was no order nor reason to it. The complete disarray almost made her give up if it wasn't for the strong felling that was beating in her head saying she was close to finding _something_. So, she ignored the sudden hunger that rived inside her stomach and took an old tome with cracked leather. The title had faded because of time and the elements. Opening it, she scanned its content. The script was old. Yet it contained enough familiar phrases and words that she could decipher them with some thinking on her part. A passage in particular was rather intriguing:

 _The old and new land cursed by a Lord of Shadow_ _is_ _protected by an armor of white. Outsiders are not welcome. Sometimes its armor is shed_ _,_ _t_ _he way is then free._

The problem that arise when she finished reading this was there wasn't anymore mention of this mist, which was surely represented by the "armor in white". She only had those specific lines. All that she could do now was to speculate about the nature of this phenomenon. The most plausible explanation –which in retrospect was rather weak since Ciri didn't have a lot to go on– was the mist acted as a sort of barrier between this land and the rest of the world, or most probably the plural could also be applied. Another thing to consider was during the brief Conjunction of the Spheres she stopped, not much could have traverse the veil that separated the different worlds in existence. However, there weren't any special monster, like the one she fought against or the new breed that stirred trouble near the region of Toussaint. Could this mist have stopped even the Conjunction from reaching its world? The Nilfgaardian Empress didn't have enough to settle on a definite answer.

The whole sleepless experience fell on her like a ton of bricks. Her eyelids gained new weights and sleep was kept at bay only by the ravenous hunger she was feeling. Wanting to take care of that first, Ciri got up with tired green eyes as the new pair of bodyguards arrived in time to escort her to the kitchen. The staff stationed there was only beginning to wake up when she stepped in. Her simple presence had the effect of a thunderbolt striking the cooks and chefs, which immediately went to work to serve her a meal.

Cirilla Fiona Elen Rianno was seated in the middle of the kitchen, in clothes that weren't suited for the day, eating from a simple wooden bowl with a wooden spoon. She ate and drank like a tavern wench. Manners were thrown out of the window as the hunger she felt, fueled by her fatigue, was not satisfied yet. She didn't pay attention to the scared and confused look sent her way while she was eating.

"Thank you for this. I didn't notice how hungry I truly was," declared the Empress as got up from her chair and bade farewell to the kitchen staff.

With a stomach finally satisfied, she headed to her chamber to change for the coming day of governing. The two guards were like her shadows, following her wherever she went. However they didn't when she finally was in her room. The servants that were already inside to cloth and take care of her, immediately stopped silently panicking because of her absence. With care and swiftness, she was changed. Now she was wearing a robe with subtle precious stones and golden threads. However, it wasn't as long as was normal. On her insistence, it had been shortened and had a pair of pants. The crown, symbol of her status and power, was carefully placed on her hair. As a seal, it locked her into her role as the empress of a growing empire. She looked at herself in the grand mirror inside the room and saw someone that was her and at the same time a completely other person. The only thing that definitely reminded her that it was her in the guise of the most high noble possible, was her eyes and the scar that laid on her left cheek. Some might say it marred her beauty. She disagreed. It added to her aura of experience and power.

Ciri walked out of her room and the guards stationed left their posts to follow her. Another day to talk with nobles, dancing to their specific games of words.

* * *

"… and this is why, your Grace, that is it important we take back our troops from this region", finished one commander from the legions.

His arguments were sounds. He had good points, Ciri admitted, however, she wasn't sure if this was a good idea. The troops in question were in the region of Caravista. Not in the direct proximity of it, however they could be deployed relatively fast should there was the need. And with the new breed of monsters that stirred trouble, one couldn't be to careful.

"I hear your, Commander Almeist. However, I received the day before a report which could be of concern," answered Ciri calmly with the appropriate tone. "Mirak, show him the papers with the drawing."

The servant approach the commander with the papers in question. The man, which had a face tanned and aged by years being on the field, moved his dark eyes reading the report before his eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw the representation of the new monster encountered near the frontier with Toussaint.

"I understand, your Grace. My men will be ready for deployment at your word. If truly it took only one of those creature to eradicate a whole garrison, then my troops will certainly help greatly." said Commander Almeist before adding, under his breath, "where is a Witcher when you need one?"

The hurried footsteps of a running messenger stopped the current discussion. The man, hair stuck to his forehead and with a hectic breath, entered the throne-room with a message sealed with red wax.

"An urgent message for you, your Majesty," managed to say the messenger between two breathes.

"From who?"

"From her Her Enlightened Ladyship, Anna Henrietta"

Surprised by this, Ciri accepted the sealed letter with her hand. The seal was truly the one from the lady-regent of Toussaint with the three dogs on it. Once the seal broken, the Empress read the letter's content. Her eyes grew and grew as the more she read. As small tremble took control of her hand.

"Your Majesty?" asked a worried Commander Almeist.

Ciri ignored her subject. Subtle emerald light danced around her as her hair floated into the air, caught in an unseen current. The air seemed to crackle with supernatural energies. The people of the court flinched and tried to take refuge or to hide from the power that bled out of their Empress. The letter in question was as follows:

 _Your grace Empress_ _Cirilla Fiona Elen Rianno,_

 _I do not have time for the usual decorum so I hope that you will let slide this faux-pas of mine. Master Geralt had disappeared. A strange Mist had passed over the land of Toussaint, taking him with it._ _I searched far and wide until exhaustion couldn't let me continue. I even asked for her Eminence to lend her knights to my search. It was all for not. No traces of him were found. Nothing._ _I do not know what magic managed to make him invisible to the mages I have consulted._ _I do not know what to do else than taking care of his estate during his absence. I sincerely hope that this letter will be in your hands in the quickest of delays. Her Eminence had the gracious kindness to let me use her personal pigeon loft._ _I will continue my search while taking care of master Geralt's estate._

 _Your humble servant,_

 _Barnabas-Basil Foulty._

Ciri crumbled the letter into her hands and disappeared in a shower of green, shocking the entire court. She reappeared in another land, in the middle of grapes, in front of a well cared manor.

"Barnabas!" she shouted as she pushed the front door. "Barnabas!"

It wasn't the majordomo that she saw, it was the cook. A lady in which old age at started to take a toll on her. Marlene de Trastamara's eyes were starting to get foggy. It didn't stop her from continuing to cook.

"Your majesty?" She croaked as her face whitened. "It's a pleasure to have you..."

"No time for that, Marlene," interrupted Ciri as the other had started to bow. "Where is Barnabas?"

"He is with some wandering knights searching for Sir Geralt. My Lady, wait!" cried the old lady as Ciri prepared to search for the man that was her father in all but blood in her ceremonial dress and crown. "Would not it be better to wait for them? Going all on your own to search for him would be fruitless if you don't know of the current situation. At least accept something form my kitchen, your Highness."

The words stopped Ciri cold. The wisps of green kept snaking out around her, sliding against the walls and floor. Her hair was still freely floating and accompanied by her crown, it gave of an imperious aura of power. With a shaking traversing her whole body, the Empress of the Nilfgaardian Empire sat down on a chair, waiting for the promised snack. Marlene went as fast as her old legs could carry her to the kitchen. The scene was awfully familiar to Ciri, which could not control the power that leaked of her.

She eat what was given to her, noting weakly the honeyed taste. Time was of the essence and yet here she was, sitting at Geralt's manor while its master was gods-knows-where.

"Miss Ciri!"

She turned as her name was called. Here was Barnabas, not having changed clothes in days as those he was wearing were rumpled and dirtied by ceaseless searches. Then there was the noise of multiples armors suddenly kneeling. Those were the wandering knights Marlene had talked about.

"Your Highness!" cried the armored men at the same time.

"Where is Geralt?" she asked without giving a second glance to the kneeling knights.

"I.. do not know. It is as the letter I sent you."

"Tell me everything you do know," she demanded, staying up.

"Not much, I'm afraid," said the majordomo with a sad look. "It is as I have written. After you left, the most dense mist I have ever seen covered the land. Master Geralt was tense. His medallion was shaking like mad. He asked us to go to the bunker before he left the manor. Once the mist was cleared, there was no traces of him."

The knights were still kneeling as Ciri put a hand on her chin, making her thoughts spin. It was the mist, it had to be. The paragraph she deciphered were alight in her head. The monsters also came from the mist. It was a gate.

"Have you informed anyone else of this?"

"Yes."

Barnabas didn't have to tell who he informed for Ciri to know. The region would be soon the host of a well known sorceress. However, now was not the time for reminiscence. Now was the time to think of a solution, or the beginning of one

"Have you heard of any strange mist lately?"

"Mist you say your Highness?" asked a knight which took the opportunity of having her attention to get up. "Aye. On the South-West frontier of Toussaint. Folks talked about the thickest fog they have ever seen. Even heard a rumor about some monsters showing up after it left."

"How did it appeared exactly? Did it came into existence unannounced or did it crawl its way from here? If so, it must be really slow."

"It is the second case, Empress," added a second knight as it too stopped kneeling.

"We will do everything to finish this quest, this I swear." declared the third one.

"As we do." agreed the two others.

The genuine eagerness to help gave warmth to Ciri, even if it was as a blanket against a raging blizzard, it was at least something. However, even if her mother-figure was going to help them, she feared deep down that it wouldn't be enough. And a little voice at the back of her head told her that maybe, _maybe_ , she ought to call _him_ for aid. However, this thought left a bad taste in her mouth. Her emotion about him were complicated to say the least. There was gratefulness, she wasn't going to lie, as well as the sour taste of bitterness about how he looked at her just as some sort of science project.

"I do not want to impose, your Majesty, however, if we are to save Geralt of Rivia, maybe we should investigate the most recent apparition of the mist." his proposition was met with the supporting metallic nods of his comrades in arms.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

* * *

Ciri didn't let the horses catch their breath. The animals were hard at work, galloping as fast as their powerful legs could move. It had been a few hours since the group's departure from the estate. The morning sun was shining upon the land and there was only a few hours left before the star arrived at its zenith. Castel Ravello could be seen at the horizon while the rays of the sun were reflected by some of its roofs. A little bit later, with exhausted horses and exhausted knights, Ciri finally let them have a break.

"The Empress!", "She is here!", "What are your waiting, go fetch refreshments for her Highness!", cried the occupants of the castle when they laid eye upon her regal form. However, there clothes she was wearing were not made for mad galloping. She asked for more fitting ones and the occupants walked on themselves to fetch what she asked.

"Do you think we will find something once there?" asked Ciri, turning to Barnabas which had accompanied her. The man, putting his glasses in the correct position, answered her.

"I certainly hope so. The searches until know have all been annoyingly fruitless. I am at least happy that we had another pair of sword for your use." added the majordomo.

Ciri caressed the pommel of the sword in question. The weapon had been gathering dust in the cellar of the manor, with the rest of Geralt's collection. How and why the man had been taking every chance he could get to have more and more bladed weaponry, she didn't knew. And some of the swords he had were of really good quality. There was also some armors from different Witcher's School worn by mannequins. A servant arrived with a pitcher of fine wine for her. The other had not been counted for the refreshments, to the frustrations of the knights which drew water from the well for themselves and their mounts.

"The requested clothes are ready for you, your Majesty" said a member of the castle's staff, a woman with hard eyes.

The Empress, hand still on the pommel of her sword, followed the servant to a private room, where she could change in peace and tranquility. Gone were the gold and jewels. Fitting leather jacket and padded pants of dark color were now hers. The occupants of Castel Ravello would not object to her keeping the clothes. The crown was the only thing that stayed. It shined with the sun with warm colors as she joined the rest of her retinues for the expedition.

"When can we resume the journey?" she asked but didn't receive an immediate answer- Something had caught the attention of the guards stationed on the walls overlooking the plain. One of the watchmen put his hand over his eyes to try and discern something in the distance.

"Do you hear it?" asked another stationed guard.

Ciri, intrigued, tried to hear what had caught the guard's attention. At first, there was nothing to note. However, the more she concentrated, the more she could hear the distinct ringing of bells. Her green eyes widened as she rushed herself to the wall. Far from the castle, in a distant village, bells echoed in alarm as smoke grew and houses collapsed, creating pillars of dust. There was also firery explosions. Recognizing an attack, Ciri was gone in a flash of emerald, leaving everyone behind and reappearing in a vortex of colors amidst chaos and panic. Fire licked and devoured fallen beams, smoke tried to choke her and dust covered everything. People stuck under rubble cried for help while other laid dead with broken bodies overflowing with blood. A swat of wind pushed the smoke and dust aside like curtains, revealing the actor of this tragedy.

A beast of gargantuan proportion stood in the middle of the flames. It had muscles cut like diamonds, weapons created from a vicious smith glinted with fresh blood. Eyes as red as coal pits locked into her with burning hate. This creature was a monstrosity with the chest of a man, the head of a lion and the body of a horse. Wicked horns jutted from its scalp. It reeled, growing even more taller as it cast a shadow upon Ciri. With a roar, it charged her. The fight had started.

Not waiting a moment more, the Empress disappeared and reappeared a bit farther, putting distance between herself and the beast. It stopped in its charge, confused as it shook its mane trying to understand what happened and searching for her. She could hear it sniffing the wind, clearly not caring for the smoke, dust and blood that tainted the air. It turned around, found her and charged once more. The beams and small block of stones that laid in its path were crushed by his powerful hooves. Its attack would have stopped anyone in fear but Ciri wasn't a novice. She had countless experience with fighting for her life. Sword at the ready, she waited until the last moment to dodge the incoming cleaver and then took the opportunity that was presented. Her sword flew and cut into the left front leg. However, the wound wasn't deep. The hide of the monster was thick. Only a trickle of blood escaped.

A hoof knocked her away with unnatural power, projecting her far away. The shock was to much for her to fully use the blood coursing through her veins and she landed on blackened grass. It scrapped against her borrow clothes, which absorbed most of the impact with the help of the corrna she had surrounded herself with. It was still enough to steal the air from her lungs. Coughing and trying to regain her breath, she saw the monster heaved, its chest swelling before it spouted a ball of bright flames at her. Ciri managed to escape by throwing herself aside and at the same moment, she rolled, regaining her footing.

The woman winced at the pain that blossomed in her bruised chest. She should have been more careful. If it had stroke her with more force, she would have been out of the fight. Getting up, she was on her guards. The monster, was now foaming at the mouth, growling before it charge a third third time. There was no contact as Ciri teleported from harm's way and attack from the side, cutting once more into the hide using her sword with her two hands. More blood escaped from the room. The beast tried to hit her again with its hoof but she expected it and disappeared once more. She appeared on the other side, slashed and dodged. She danced around the monster and the more she touched it, the more frustrated it got. Hooves missed her, its sword slashed empty air. Spit and foam fell from its maw into the soot stained ground. Then it did something unexpected. It raised its arms over its head. The cleaver was grasped by powerful paws and started to shake with energy. Black smoke got out of its nostril and mouth. Ciri could senses power and magic being concentrated into the blade. It was almost to late that she understood what was going on and shied herself with her own brand of sorcery as the cleaver was brought down on the ground and the monster spitted fire. An explosion covered her and her adversary in a globe of fire. Protected from the worst of it, she was till thrown away and could feel the heat upon her skin.

Getting up quickly, she saw that the beast was unharmed. It wasn't the case for the surroundings. Stones were broken and wooden beams were reduced to cinder. The monster laid now in a hole were there was nothing left except caked earth. It growled in anger as he saw Ciri was unscathed. A powerful roar shook the air as it jumped out of the hole before going back on the offensive.

The Empress knew she couldn't parry any of the sword slashes. The power behind them would be enough to disarm her. And even if she managed to do that, it would be at the cost of her arms, which would be broken or worse. So she did as before and dodged by using her magic, to the exploding anger of the monster. His eyes had lost the small reason that were behind them. There was only savagery left.

"For Toussaint!" shouted a voice that was accompanied by thunderous hooves.

It wasn't the monster that charged, but one of the knight accompanying her that didn't flinched as he went straight to the beast with a lance in hand. Backed up by the force of the charge, the lance burrowed deep into the flank of the centaur-like monster. A bellow of pain and rage exploded into existence.

"Watch out!"

Ciri's warning was for naught, as the snarling beast turn with surprising speed for its mass and bisected the armored man and the horse the same time in a shower of blood and entrails. The man was dead before he even touched the ground. Shouts of anger and shock made Ciri realize that she wasn't alone anymore. A contingent of armored knights and men were attacking the creature with arrows and lance. The two other knights that had pledge allegiance into helping her thrust their own weapon into the monster to great damage. Now, a river of blood flowed freely from its wounds. It then inflated his lungs, wanting to blow fire into the new comers

"Scram! Now!" shouted Cirilla.

The men obeyed immediately and broke off. However, some were not fast enough. A ball of fiery flames ate the slower men at arms and their mounts, roasting them. The horses neighed in distress as the flames started to consume their hair while their riders tried to put out the oranges tongues that licked their flesh. No matter what they tried, it refused to be put out. Only one of the burning soldier managed to survive by throwing himself into the adjacent river.

"Your Majesty! You shouldn't be here!" said a knight as it passed by her, putting distance between the wounded monster and him. He threw the now useless shaft of his lance aside.

"Tell that to it! There is no time!"

Roaring interrupted the conversation as they saw arrows kept peppering the towering giant, annoying it more than anything. A charging lance was one of the few things that seriously managed to hurt the monster. If only Ciri had not, in her precipitation, taken a steel sword. She had been in such a hurry that she didn't care which kind of blade she was taking from Geralt's armory. While appearing on the side of the monster and adding another cut to its collection, an idea started to take form in her head. The speed behind the lance had been the key to penetrated the hard leather of the monster. Her green eyes landed on the broken tip of the first lance that had been since then thrown away by the beast.

So, in a swift apparition, she picked up the broken weapon after sheathing her sword. The monster was distracted by the other men. After she was gone, two other now laid dead, cut in twain. Nobody knew where she was when she reappeared into the world for a simple reason she was over the battle, where all the participants were now like ants. The cries and shouts of the fight could still be heard by her. Ciri stayed a moment into the air for what seemed like to be an eternity before gravity took its hold on her and she plummeted.

Green energies coiled around her like snakes as they slithered their way up the tip of the lance as she fell towards her target. The air whipped around her while her hair floated freely. She couldn't miss for this was going to hurt a lot. As the back of the monster became bigger and bigger, she prepared herself and at the last moment, she was swallowed by green and spitted out facing the beast. With a cry, she crashed against the monster, lance in front. The steel head plunged into the chest with the cracking of bones and wood. A gurgling bellow was like music to Ciri's ears. The force with which she had impacted was enough to bring it down. The magic surrounding her had absorbed the shock and the fall, though the pain she felt was still immense. The even more hateful roaring crashed on her like a cold ocean. The monster, despite the gaping wounds on its side, despite the numerous cut on its body and despite the lance that was lodged into its thorax, refused to die. The fiery pits that was its eyes burned with such hate that all that watch it trembled in fear.

It lifted a foot and put it down. It then lifted another one. Little by little, it started to walk towards Ciri, looking at it with an inferno of emotions. It coughed up blood as it advanced. A waterfall of crimson flowed into its chest as it growled. However, before it could take another steps, the monster reeled and roared one last time before it collapsed, dead.

Ciri could hear her heart pumping in her ears as she got up on trembling legs. Death and destruction was laid around her. From the contingent that went to her help, more than half was dead or dying. Fire were still roaring and the battlefield was almost like a wasteland. But the beast that had brought this little apocalypse was no more. And in the middle of that, Ciri had but one thought: _Where are you, Geralt?_

 *****************************************************************************************

 **Sorry for the wait. I had the dreaded writer block. I hope that this chapter will be enough as an apology. Anyway, you can thank Robert E. Howard for having restarting my muse, which was on fire for the past 4 days. The next chapter, I have no idea when it will come out. Do not hesitate to tell me what you thought about this chapter.**  
 **'Till next time.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Signs of Civilisations**

The sun shined while does grazed under the shadows the trees surrounding Geralt. This part of the world was one where Nature ruled with an iron fist. All you could see was wildness in its purest verdant form. Some patches of earth were imprinted with the paws of wolves and foxes, as the Witcher saw with his experimented eyes. His new Roach was a tranquil horse and seemed to be trained. Not once since he left the domain of the Great Deku Tree had the horse refused to change directions when Geralt wanted nor did the mare tried to leave when Geralt took a pause. The Master of the Lost Woods did not disappoint when it came to boons.

Although there was a difference between the woods where Geralt was and the ones part of the Great Deku Tree's domain. Where one had been suffocating with its insistent mist and nerve wracking by the constant feeling of being watched by something, this one was more calm and natural. Not once did he felt something unnatural. The medallion hanging from his neck had been still since the departure. There was one detail that made the Witcher pause however. It had been almost a full day since and there was no trace of civilization, except for the old beaten road he was on. Yet it was very old with weeds and wild flowers blooming from it.

Another thing that surprised him was that he hadn't run into monsters, the time when he met the strange woman excepted, at all. But it didn't mean that they weren't there. His senses could discern the subtler things hidden around him. Some marks marred the trunk of a tree, broken branches that started to slowly heal, old tracks and patches of fur here and there. All of those indicated that this wold had them. As Geralt took a turn, he saw a hole where should have a been a tree. It had been taken, roots and all. Next to it were great footprints accompanied by smaller ones. After a more in depth look, those strange pig-faced monster form the other time were the owner of those. The bigger ones, he had no idea what kind of creature it could be. It couldn't be a giant or a cyclops, as he knew them very well when he took care of them in exchange for coins.

This line of thoughts brought in into another as Roach took another turn by choosing the right road at an intersection. All of Geralt's knowledge had been built by his training and his years as a Witcher traveling the Continent. All of this wouldn't not help him if what was waiting for him in this new land were all unseen monsters. However, there was a sliver lining, his training. Which when he thought about it, would help him, yes, however he had strayed from the Path for a long time.

His thinking was cut short was his ears caught the distinct sound of weapons hitting flesh. The muffled cries, due to the distance, were human. Roach went at full speed on the pass, blowing up dust in her passage. The sounds of combat became clearer the more Geralt approached. He had not taken out a sword, be it the steel or silver one, as he had no idea of the threat he was going to soon face. However, this lack of knowledge was discarded as silver was out because of the inhuman growling and oinking. Roach and Geralt arrived at the scene of a struggle between a young man, armed with a round wooden shield and a short sword. The only other kind of armor he had was the metallic pot he wore as a helmet. The young man was facing the guttural laughs of multiple multiple pig-faced monsters. Some had red skin, other blues. Their weapons consisted of rusty swords and pikes. Two of them were on the ground, bleeding to death. The young man was hurt. The copper scent of blood emanated form him.

Geralt's entrance at the scene was sudden and taking advantage of this surprise, he lopped a head while Roach pushed away a second monster. Not wasting a second, he dismounted and charged, engulfed by a yellow shield that stuck with him like a second skin. The monsters had reacted to his dispatching of two of their comrades and changed target. One tried to bash him with its rusty sword, which the Witcher dodged with ease and punished the over-extending by cutting of one arm of the monster. It screamed in pain, forgetting Geralt's presence to concentrate on trying to cut of the stream of its vital fluid. It was its final mistake as its heart was then pierced.

"How do you like that, you piece of filth?"

Then the edge taken by his retirement costed Geralt a mistake as he felt the rusted head of a pike poking him, which resulted in an explosion of yellow, projecting the monster responsible for the attack. The shouts of the young man was accompanied by gurgling as something heavy fell on the floor. At the nick of time he managed to cast an Aard, throwing away the monster that jumped at him. His guard was up as he surrounding himself in a new cocoon of yellow, still having the energy for the protective sign. There was in total four monster still standing. The one disoriented by the burst of energy from Geralt's shield was still on the ground. Its life was cut short by the silver sword that plunged into its throat.

A parry, deflecting a blade coming for the Witcher's head, gave the window a gauntlet to the groin, stunning enough the monster for killing it in a swift blow. And now there was only one left as the young man dispatched the one he was dueling. The bloody stain grew on his cloth and yet, he kept on fighting.

"Keep you dirty face away from 'Ma!" shouted the young in an act of defiance.

Geralt had not noticed when he arrive, but behind the young man, back against the trunk of an oak, the was an old woman. He didn't have more time to take in her appearance as one more monster needed to be taken care of. Between the Witcher and the young man, it was short work. Corpses with red skins were strewn around, bathing in their own blood. Before Geralt cleaned his blade, he made sure that they were truly alone with his senses. Once satisfied, he sheathed his sword turning around to be face to face with a sword pointed at his direction. Raising slowly his hand into the air, he could now take the appearances of the people he saved. And the first thought that came to his mind were: _Elves?_.

Pointy ears were the first thing his yellow eyes saw. However, the facial structure wasn't that different with his own. Thy were also a bit shorter that the average man. It could be that their entire species was like that, or that the individuals he had in front of him could simply be shorter that their own average.

"Easy, I am not here to hurt you. If I was, wouldn't have helped you" said Geralt with an appeasing tone.

Suspicious deep blue eyes squinted at him. He could see the arms of the young man, no, _teenager_ , trembling because of fear and exhaustion. The suspicion continue as the nameless possible-elf looking at him, going from his white hair to the scars adorning his face to finally his eyes, which he stayed focused on the longest. The wince that traveled in across the face was subtle but still there.

"How can I be sure of that an' you're not tryin' to stab us later in the back?" answered the teen with an accented voice, never once ceasing to point his weapon at Geralt.

"My name is Geralt of Rivia."

He didn't receive an answer. However, before the tension could linger any longer, an old and decrepit hand posed itself on the teen's arm. The old woman, to which the hand belonged, shook her head at what was probably her grandson. When he saw that, the teen's shoulder sagged as if a great weight had been lifted from them. Now, he could show the pain he was in as a string of barely muttered insults flew from his mouth. He sat down against a tree with the help of the woman.

She was like the teenager, pointy ears and all. However, Geralt had to pay attention to see the same deep blue eyes that were hidden behind almost closed eyelids. She opened her mouth to say something that seemed to be gibberish to Geralt's ears. However, the young man didn't have the same problem to understand her.

"Sorry about not presentin' myself, Geralt. Name's Boli" he said wincing pain shot up from his wound.

"We should treat your wound before it get worse."

"Ha!" the laugh was accompanied by a cough. " 'Ma said the same thing. Go help her, I ain't gonna move."

The old woman turn around and walked towards a corpse that the Witcher had not noticed before. It was a horse, with its stomach open wide. Satchels and different kinds of sacks laid around the dead animal. She took a pot and some herbs as well as some strange mushrooms which shined faintly. Then, she went towards one of the dead monsters and took out a knife she kept on herself, giving to Geralt while pointing and murmuring more nonsense.

"She wants you to cut open one of those bastards and take its heart." translated Boli from his tree.

Some things stayed the same, no matter the place. If his deduction was true, then they were in the middle of a little session of alchemy. Doing as he was told, Geralt plunged the knife into the almost slimy flesh, cutting a hole big enough to see the purple heart and viscera. Once the organ in his hand, he looked at the old woman and saw her preparing a fire with a pot on it. As she was preparing the mushrooms and the different vegetables, she signed Geralt to come by her side. Next to the pot, there was a mortar big enough to contain the monster's heart.

" 'Ma, you forgot the schnapps, again." called out Boli as he maintained the pressure on his wound.

Aged grumbling was the answer as the old woman went and took out a bottle of clear alcohol that smelled faintly of fruits. When she returned, she gave him the bottle and gestured enough to let him know on what to do. Uncorking the alcohol, Geralt sprinkled it on the heart that he had previously placed in the mortar. The reaction that happened was surprising, as when the liquid touched the organ, this one started to melt before all that was left was a sort of purplish soup that bubbled a little. However, the appearance was deceptive, as when he started crushing the substance with the pestle, cracks appeared while there was some resistance.

" 'seems you have done that all your life or somethin'" said Boli, watching the scene with a pained grimace.

All that was left inside the mortar was a sort of horrible paste to look at. The color was the same kind you would imagine if you thought about the worst poison possible. An old hand asked for the substance and Geralt gave it to the old woman. What she had done was some kind of soup with the ingredients cut into very small bits. The paste fell into the preparation, covering the small vegetables. The grandmother then grasped a fan with which she fed the fire air, making it grow until a cage of flames encircled the pot. More bubbles of purples burst into existence and during this intense cooking, the color of the whole mix started to change. From a devilishly purple, it lost its edged to gain a more dignified, royal, color.

Killing the fire and making to that the embers would not start a wildfire, the old woman, with trembling arms, brought the strange soup to Boli. The young man could not grasp the pot with a sure hand, as one was making sure he wasn't bleeding to death. She carefully made him drink the soup, however she did not give him the entirety of it. The more liquid the young man swallowed, the more painful it seemed to get. With the rest of the concoction, it was directly applied on the wound he had on the flank as a sort of unguent. Boli almost shouted as if he was branded by a hot iron but kept his composure, opting to biting his lips instead of shouting.

"It hurts like a Lynel to the face," he declared as he took some deep, painful breathes. "Anyway, think we should get goin', we shouldn't stay out while its dark. Thanks for the help, Geralt."

The Witcher nodded as he helped the hurt teenager to get up.

"You can put your things on Roach, should have enough place for you and the old woman."

A dusty grumble came out from his side and Boli translated.

"Her name is Shepie, but everyone call her 'Ma"

After the presentations were done, Geralt of Rivia was walking next to Roach, which carried two new passengers to some haven of safety in this world.

* * *

"So, yeah, we are going to the Woodland Stable," explained Boli as he kept a watchful eye.

"Of course." answered Geralt as they continued to travel.

Roach hadn't said anything or complained during the trip. The new combined weight of her passengers and theirs stuff didn't seem to bother her that much. Shepie murmured something which her grandson, which the Witcher had learn was the case, answered quickly.

"Really? you're going to give him your soup?" Boli said that with surprise clearly written on his face.

More aged mumbling continued before Boli answered and argue with Shepie about this soup. Geralt didn't knew what was the deal with this. He was more concentrated about what was going to happen to him while he was stranded here. He didn't knew how long he would stay in this world. What was more was that Ciri would have heard of his disappearing and would have acted rapidly to try and find him. This brought a little smile on his face. However, she would have also contacted people that could help, which meant _her_.

Each thoughts that lingered on Yennefer were ones attached with mix emotions. Even after all this time since the wish that bind the two together, their relationship had been more tumultuous to say the least.

"She asked if you had kids."

"What?" answered Geralt, not having listen to what was going on with the other two.

"She asked if you had kids? Cause the smirk you had there for a second is the same kind she and Ol' Pops had when they thought about theirs," clarified the teen as he discretely looked at Geralt's eyes.

Even here, his eyes still unnerved people. However, he couldn't ponder more on the matter when Boli started to act rather strange.

"Oh no," was all he said as his head lolled.

His grandmother was ready to catch him should he fall, as well as Geralt. A quick look at the young man's eyes and the answer was clear, what Boli had drank was subject to having secondary effect. Yet, Shepi didn't seem to be that preoccupied as she made sure that Boli stayed upright.

"Horse head," mumbled the young man as he started to laugh as well as winced.

In the distance, where Boli had pointed to before he started to rambling, Geralt could see some sort of construction, which when he concentrated enough, had the same shape as the head of a horse. And it wasn't, civilization was also there, as numerous columns of smokes snaked their ways into the blue sky. The more the group approached, the more details Geralt could discern. Wooden walls protected the village from outside threats. The most prominent thing that caught the Witcher's attention was the horse head, which was made from scraps and tissues.

A rudimentary gate blocked the group progression with two towers on each side.

"Halt!" screamed one of the vigils before recognizing who was riding. "Boli? Is that you? What happened?"

"Bokoblins, that's ..." mumbled the wounded before drifting of.

"Open the gate!"

The doors opened, creaking, while five men and women, dressed in mails, were there to welcome the group. However, as soon as the militia saw Geralt, weapons were drawn and pointed at his direction.

"What you do?" asked the delirious Boly with anger.

"Boli, 'Ma, please step away from the Yiga" asked a man resolutely.

The effect of the word "Yiga" made people around even more nervous. The few curious onlooker quickly went into hiding. Mothers and fathers took their children away to safety.

"He not a yiga..." drawled Boli

"And do you know that, Boli? You can't even properly speak nor think straight in your state. So I will asked once again, step away from the man."

Geralt didn't knew if he should say something or not. The people in front of him, covered in a bit of day-to-day grime reminded him of something he didn't want to remember. As the tension grew, Shepie got off Roach's saddle, helped her grandson then walked up to the commanding man.

"what is it, 'Ma? Ouch!" he shouted as the old woman hit his knee and started rambling aggressively. "What? How could you possibly know… Ouch! Stop it, 'Ma!"

She gestured to Geralt direction while mumbling even more nonsense while agitating a menacing old and tiny fist.

"Alright, alright! You there!" said the man while pointing a finger at him. "Come here. Listen, stranger, I thank you for saving 'Ma and Boli from those bokoblins, So, I will give the benefit of the doubt here. However, if you want to stay, you are going to make yourself useful like everyone. Is that understood?"

"Yes," answered Geralt truthfully.

"Good. Because if you don't behave, you and I are going to have a problem."

The guard left after that, fuming while throwing angered looks to the grandmother-grandson duo.

"I think I'm going to..." said Boli before he vomited a mix of green and purple on the ground.

* * *

"Is he going to be okay?" asked the Witcher to the woman which wore the clothes of the local healer, prominently white.

"Yes. The potion helped him survive. Now, all he need is rest. Making potions on the fly without the necessary precaution are more prone to have secondary effects. However, those one were not that dangerous. He will feel unwell, as if he had drank too much." answered the nurse as she clean the tissue she had used to clean the trace of vomit. Boli was on his side, in case he should vomit a bit more. "You can go, Stranger. He is in good hands."

Saying his goodbyes and thanking the woman, Geralt exited the tent. Once outside, the rays of the afternoon sun shined upon him. The few people that were around looked at him with a bit of suspicion and surprised as to his appearance. However, they weren't as afraid as they had been when the captain of the militia had called him a "Yiga". There still was a bit of tension when he walked to the central building.

It wasn't really a building per se. It was more akin to an enormous construction made from scraps. Patches of different colors and material had been sewn together until the whole thing managed to resemble the head of a horse. Geralt didn't know how the thing was still standing because for each strong breeze, the metallic part of it creaked like rusted iron. However, the precariousness of the thing didn't seem to bother the people of the camp. For as big as it was, the settlement was not a village nor a town. Because as the Witcher looked a little bit closer to the different buildings, he could plainly see that each and everyone of them were constructed in such a way that disassembling them would be easy. The camp was a semi-permanent one which could be moved with ease should the need be.

The head tent served as a hub for the brave traveling merchants, as an inn and tavern for any that wanted to rest and eat and as well as a stable for horses, donkeys and other traveling animals. Entering the round construction into the tavern section, Geralt went in front of the bar, which was connected with the main desk for the stable.

"Excuse-me?" he called the man behind it. "Do you have soap?"

"Want to have a bit of a scrub, eh? Well sure. However, you're goin' to bath at the river for that." answered the receptionist. "Here, free of charge. As a thank for saving old 'Ma."

Receiving the brick, Geralt followed the direction given to him by the other man to the Zora River. It wasn't far from the Woodland Stable, the name for the settlement. And as he had learn, there were other Stables just like the one he was in all over the known world. Some were simply pit-stop for weary travelers others, though rare, were akin to small bastion of civilization against the wide wild world. And he also learned the presence of true villages. They were few and fast, but they were there.

The tell tale sound of rushing water welcomed him as he approached the Zora River. He wasn't alone at the riverside. A couple of children, no older than 7 looked at him with surprise and a bit of fear. However, it quickly melted so that their awe was all that was left. And yet, it wasn't his eyes that seemed to bother the children as they concentrated on his ears. Which was another point that surprised the Witcher a bit. All the people that he had met and interacted with had ears like knives. The fact that he was heavily scarred, had cat like eyes and his ears were round made him the local curiosity. The children had not been the only ones gawking at him.

Water almost touched his shoes now. Next to him there was another man, laying on the grass next to a black boulder that twice his size while a small fire quietly burned. All he was wearing was his underwear. Small waves licked his feet. Sensing someone watching him, the man open his eyes, green, and saw Geralt.

"Greeting, stranger. Are you the new face that caused a bit of commotions?" asked the man.

"Yes. And you are?"

"Oh, where are my manners. I am Zobu," said the man as got up to shake Geralt's hand before returning to his previous position next to the boulder.

Seeing as they were no other comments, Geralt started to undress. His two swords were laid carefully next each other as the rest of his clothes followed suit. Entering the river, he noted the coldness of it. He kept going until the water went up to his knees and then sat down. After his hair were wet, he started scrubbing away all the accumulated grime since he had unwillingly been transported into another world. The little healing from the Great Deku Tree hadn't taken care of Geralt's hygiene.

"Hey! don't touch that!"

The exclamation made the Witcher turn around, seeing the two children from before, once boy and one girl, running away, laughing at the admonishment from Zobu. They had tried to unsheathe Geralt's sword.

"Don't worry about them, I'll look after your blade. Go back to cleaning yourself," reassured the other man as he laid down, eyes opened this time.

Geralt still made sure to throw a look or two as he kept washing. Once he was sure that there was no traces left of dirtiness, he got out of the river. The cold of the water cling to him a bit before gradually disappearing. As he sat at the laying man's fire, he started to breath as he had learned. The air entered his lungs continuously before he expired in a repeating pattern not unlike an old clock. This meditation calmed his mind while his tense muscles relaxed and lost their edge. A cycle of in and out was all that mattered during this moment suspended in time. Geralt was in his own little bubble of peace and yet, a part of him was still paying attention. He heard the breeze gently caressing the grass, the surprisingly great respiration if the one with which he shared the fire.

When he came back from his second state, the white haired man open his eyes to see that Zobu was looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Geralt, you seem to be a man that knows his drink. How about we go to the tavern. The first round is on me." asked the elf as his eyes quickly went and go to the Witcher's stomach.

"Thanks"

"Good! Then, come on Bubu, get up!" he called in the direction of the boulder. It started to move, the mud in which it was staying splashed and moved and what Geralt had thought had been a simple rock was in fact a wild pig of enormous proportions. Its hide was a dark thick and gray. Red eyes looked at the two men with calm. Oinking a deep note, the animal approaches Zobu, sniffing him before it started being pet by the man.

"Come one, old girl, let's move" he told her with warmth. The pig oinked once more and followed the two men.

* * *

Once Geralt and Zabu were sitting at a table, and that Bubu the big boar was waiting outside. Around them were few people drinking. A family were eating while a man sat in a corner, looking at the seat in front of him with empty eyes.

"While we are waiting for our drinks, Geralt, may I ask you something?"

"Depends on what."

"Naturally," said Sabu with a nod. "What exactly is your profession? I would say something quite physical with how your body is painted by old marks."

The answer didn't came immediately as the requested tankard were laid on the table that was between the two men and they toasted.

"I'm a monster hunter. That's what I do." answered Geralt as he took a sip of the first alcoholic beverage on this new world. The taste wasn't bad. A bit too fruity for his taste.

"So I presume that the two swords are for monster then?"

"Yes." said Geralt after a bit.

"Well then, I think you will find work here, as well as any part of Hyrule for that matter. Although, maybe the bigger ones will be a bit tricky for you. However, they are quite a rare sight in this region."

Silence took control of the conversation as both witcher and elf drank. The deep oinking outside caused a few people to look at the gigantic boar laying outside while a dog was running circles around it, wagging its tails with playfulness.

"Zabu! You old scoundrel. I didn't knew you were here!" exclaimed a voice. Its owner, another elf with deep green eyes and a bit of a beard growing, approached the pair. He took Geralt's drinking companion in his arms while laughing like a man twice his size. "Hah! How good it is to see you. It has been almost a year since the last time. Oh, who is your friend over?"

"Almo, this is Geralt, monster hunter by profession. Hey, a drink for my old friend!" called Zabu. "Look at you, not a scratch or anything! Life has been kind to you." declared Zabu with warmth.

"She has been the same to you, my friend, the same to you." responded Almo. "Anyways, what are you doing here? As well as you, Geralt."

"Oh, you know, traveling trying to sell what I find while searching old ruins from the ancient kingdom."

Almo reacted with clear surprise at that as he coughed up what he had gone the wrong way.

"Really? And you are still alive and well. Truly, you must be in the Princess' good grace if she has blessed you so far. Oh, I almost forgot you." he stopped while paying attention to Geralt's ear. "Round, eh? Quite a rare trait to have. Bah, you even if you are a roundy doesn't mean you are not hylian like the rest of us," dismissed the _hylian_ as he took a sip. "And you, what are you doing here?"

The Witcher didn't answered right away and bough time by drinking more slowly. He didn't knew what the people of this land knew of others world or how in tune with magic they were. The impression he had from the Great Deku Tree and his kind were one of secrecy, hidden from the rest of the world. So, taking a decision, he finally answered the inquiry thrown his way.

"Just trying to find what to buy bread with while traveling." he deflected flatly.

"Really Geralt? I thought that with your skills and tricks you will not be spoiled for choices. Not a lot of people have been smiled upon by the Great Powers, can we have a small demonstration?"

That answered one of his question at least. With a flick of his wrist, Geralt cast igni on the candle in front of him. The wick burned and a small flame started dancing.

"Impressive," said Almo while his old friend nodded and hummed before he finished his drink. "It is not all you can do, right?"

"No, it's not."

"No need to be like that, Geralt. I know when a man doesn't want to reveal his secrets."

The two old friends kept talking to each other and included the new guest a few times during their conversations about old times and current events. The man that was morosely drinking left the tavern to lay on one of the bed present, not paying any attention to what was going on. The stumbling of the young Boli entered, walking slowly, while smiling as he held a big glass bottle filled with a warm orange liquid. He approached the group and laid the bottle in front of Geralt. His two companions had their eyes as big as saucepan when they looked at what he had just received.

"Here. A promise is a promise and 'Ma always keep them."

"Lucky bastard," muttered Almo under his breath. "What are you waiting for? Try it before I steal it from you."

Under the insistent look from the ones around him, Geralt uncorked the bottle, put it on his lips and drank gently the soup. A warm sensation, accompanied by a cream of carrots, pumpkins, spices as well as some herbs. However, it wasn't this combination that gave him pause. There was something else. Something he couldn't place. Even his experience palate, which had been used to recognize the different ingredients of potions and poisons alike couldn't find the thing that made what he was eating so special.

"You alrigh'?" asked Boli.

Geralt, felt something around his eyes. Passing a finger on it, saw that it was a tear.

"Yes. Yes I am."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: First Job**

The first night at the Woodland Stable was not something special nor had it been interrupted by outside shenanigans. Geralt's sleep had been good and calm, except for 2 hours, when one of his neighbor started to snore like a saw. Beside this little inconvenience, the rest of the night had been tranquil. The ray of the morning sun woke him up as well as the starting hubbub of the Stable's inhabitants.

Throwing away the sheets covering him, the witcher stretched until he heard his joints crack with satisfaction. His eyes contracted until they looked like the one of a cat as he stretched once more. His belongings were still hanged next to his bed the waft of cooking food hit his nostril and woke him up a bit more. Lately, he had a bit more problem to be awake. After having refreshed himself with the bucket of water that was to be used to that effect, Geralt sat at a table of the central inn and main building of the little village. A cockerel crooned as the sun went over the horizon's line, which was cut by the shadows of far way mountains.

A bowl of soup with bread was given to him and he didn't have to pay, as the head of the inn told him that today and tomorrow would be on the house for him, as a gift for having saved Old 'Ma and her grandson, Boli. To receive this sort of kindness was something quite rare for Geralt. And yet, with this came a bit of familiarity with the awkward shuffling anytime someone looked at him and saw his appearance. His eyes draw others with their color and form. However, now it wasn't the only thing that seemed to surprise or spook some. His ears were quite the surprising sight to anyone that paid attention. Because now, the witcher was the only person with a set of round ears while everyone else had a pointed pair.

Finishing his meal, Geralt tied his white hair with a band, stopping them from covering his eyes. His bearded reflection in the water of the bucket made him pause and consider. Should he shave or not? He remember that earlier in his life, he couldn't support any hair on his cheeks. And yet he now sported a bushy beard. No, no he would not. What he would do instead was trimming it. After receiving a pair of scissors when he asked for one, he started cutting the excessive growth until he stopped looking like a strange and mutated hermit.

The morning was in full swing as people walked and ride to their occupation. A man started to heard a small group of sheep outside the walls, towards greener pasture while having his shepherding dog on the heels of the animals. A merchant, accompanied by other hylians and his mule, started to exit the safety of the Stable, arms on his back. And quite a few inhabitants started to put crowns of flowers on post and walls.

Zabu, which had been up earlier than Geralt, was nowhere to be seen. Almo, on the contrary, was still at a table, eating. He looked at Geralt, with eyes still filled envy as he muttered the word "soup" in his breath between two spoonful.

Zabu couldn't be far, since his boar was still laying on the ground, sleeping in front of the inn.

"Ah, Geralt, here you are."

Turning around, the witcher saw the hylian arriving from the other side, in his hand was a skewer with meat and mushrooms. He bit off half of it before taking out the other half and threw it at Bubu. The pig, in an act of great agility, caught all of the flying food before going back to sleep, oinking softly.

"Good morning, Zabu," greeted Geralt.

"The same to you. Anyway, I am here because I have heard of something that might interest someone of your profession. A merchant had said that a nest of bokoblins are not far from here. Which, after consideration with the lack of mercantile activity of the Stable, could explain it." explained the hylian adventurer.

"Thank you for the information, Zabu I'm..." said Geralt before being interrupted by the vocal exclamation that came from behind the two men.

"I'm coming with you!"

Entering the light of the day was another hylian, eyes almost empty if it wasn't for the flickering anger that sparked inside of them.

"I'm coming with you. And no arguing. Maro, my name is Maro."

Looking at him, Geralt saw that his eyes, blues like the sky, started to burn with violent emotions.

"You can keep the pay for all I care. I only want to participate."

"Alright then. But first we need to make sure that I will get paid. Zabu, who would be the contractor?"

"It's that fellow, over there," he said as he pointed to a merchant that was still inside and look with consternation the other of his profession leaving the safety of the walls as if they were all mad.

Approaching the man, Geralt saw that he was holding his side as a deep gouge marked his cheek, from which old blood still tainted the skin. He jumped as he was now not alone anymore.

"Who're you?" he demanded with a quaking voice.

"I'm the man interested in fixing the nest of monsters."

At that, the hylian man jumped to his feet, took Geralt's hand into his own and shook it vigorously, all the while praising him and the Powers beyond.

"Oh thanks the Princess! Thank you, thank you! I was lucky enough to survive, but I cannot say it will be the same for any future victims from those monsters." he exclaimed as he kept shaking hands.

"Do not thank me yet. I have not even begun to track them."

"Oh I know that. But your scars tell me of your experience. If that much battles haven't managed to bring you down, then you are the person of the situation."

"Good to know," said Geralt as he removed his hands from the iron grip of the other one. "But before any of that, let's talk payment. I do not work for free, still got to eat though."

"As any of us, my kind sir, as any of us. I understand. Here, I can pay you half now and the other after the deed is done. Fifty rupees now and fifty after. Why do you say?"

He could accept the deal, however the value of the local currency wasn't something the witcher knew. He had no idea of the price given to him was generous or on the contrary cheap. From the body language of the client, it didn't seem to be the latter's case.

"Say 120, so 60 now and the rest after and you have a deal."

The haggling surprised the other hylian man but before he could retort his face took a pensive mask as he considered the price.

"Alright, deal."

The two shook hands before Geralt received the general location of the nest. As he mounted Roach and waited for Maro to join him outside of the walls, he saw Zabu there, facing west while kneeling in the tall grass, a necklace in the hand.

"For facing the coming days, I pray. For the facing the coming days, I pray you, Nayru, to give me wisdom for them," he said as his index and middle finger touched his forehead. "I pray you, Din, to give me the power to face them," he then touched his shoulder. "And I pray you, Farore, to give me the courage to do so," his eyes opened as the looked toward west with intensity as the finger touched where his heart was. "And Princess of Gold, shield me from the darkness within and without." The prayer continued then in silence as his eyes once more were closed before he opened them and look at Geralt. "You are going to the new nest, yes? Then let me wish you success."

"Thank you."

Maro arrived, wearing mail and shirt, while a buckler shield was strapped to his back. His horse held his bow and his quiver. With a last nod send to Zabu's way, the witcher and hylian went on their way, tracking monsters.

* * *

The nest, as indicated by the merchant, was further inside the forest so Geralt had to backtrack a bit. The further him and Maro went, the more the witcher's senses opened to catch all and any traces of monsters. However, there wasn't a concrete path until the two of them had been traveling for almost an hour. Next to a bush, one which bore fruits and had some broken branches, there was a footprint, an inhuman one.

"We should leave the horses here. It's going to be more complicated to track now," declared Geralt to the silent nod from his hunting companion.

Speaking of which, there was something that ticked him about the other man. There was a certain intensity about Maro. Invisible waves seems to spring from the hylian. While his face seems to be set in stone, his body, and more particularly his eyes, were tense with barely hidden anger. It broiled and moved so much it hid the other emotions that was clearly affecting him.

"Listen, I know my way with this kind of beasts, so listen to what I say if _we_ want to get out of this alive." warned Geralt.

Maro looked at him. His eyes stopped being the window to his anger, letting through for a brief instant sadness. He nodded, agreeing to the condition. They didn't talk, opting to listen their surrounding. Soon, the smell of smoke caressed Geralt's nostrils and the sounds of crackling fire hit his ears. He signaled his companion of his findings, making him to be on his guard. The smell and sounds grew the closer Geralt got. His hand stopped Maro.

In front of the two, after walking while crouching, there was another clearing with a dome made in the crude shape of a skull. Everywhere they could see there was a bokoblin. Some were even used as watcher while sitting on flimsy tower made from logs of woods taped together with nails and ropes. The witcher counted ten monsters in total. However, his experience whispered to him that not all of them where there. He sensed the hylian next to him tense as his muscles contracted under the influence of shock and anger. Following Maro's line of sight, Geralt saw something that would have made his blood ice if he was quite younger.

Three bokoblins were sitting around a fire, over which a spit was turning, roasting meat. It was clearly a boar caught before that was kept turning, slowly being cooked. However, what the monsters were eating was too small and too long to be from boar or a deer. Sensing that his hunting companion was at the bursting point, Geralt stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder, grounding him. He had his other hand ready to cast Axii should the need arise. He didn't had to. Maro struggled against himself for a moment but calmed himself in the end.

They were hidden from the monsters. For how long, Geralt didn't know. He wasn't sure how a frontal confrontation would go. The fight he had when he saved old 'Ma and her grandson was with half that number and a few hits managed to go past his guard. Quen had been there to protect him from harm. He could try to pepper them from a distance, but neither him or Maro had the weapons for it. The small crossbow which had been a constant for his toolkit wasn't here. During the shifting and quickness of the situation when the mist had invaded his land, he hadn't had the time for taking it with him. As he kept thinking while watching the monster, he saw something that changed completely the beginning of a plan that was inside his head. A monster, with the same kind of skin as the bokoblins, appeared. It was bigger than the other, dwarfing Geralt and Maro. It had a pig like nose, but longer, almost like a trump from an elephant. Red skin with corded muscles moved with a slowness and dumbness written on its face. And yet, the lack of intelligence in its eyes did not hid how dangerous it could become. Because in one of his hand there was an enormous mass, cut from a tree. It was as tall as Geralt was and as wide as him.

This new addition to the monster's nest put a stop to Geralt's plan. However, the more he thought about it, the more he remembered an old trick he had learn, way back in the past, when he his memory was still incomplete. The sign he was ready to cast on the other hylian could help them. The problem was managing to manipulate the new monster into become a temporary ally. To do that, Geralt would have to concentrate and use a lot of his energy. If only he had a potion to counter the energy spent.

"Listen," said Geralt in whisper to Maro. "I'm going to hypnotize the big one into fighting for us. Under no circumstance should you attack it. If I or you hurt it while it is under my sign, it will break it. Understood?"

Maro kept silence. His face was a careful mask of hidden anger. He nodded once more before Geralt put his hand in front, in the direction of the new monster and concentrated. The long time of not having used this particular aspect of axii started to show as sweat started to pearl from his brow. The witcher felt magical energies gathering into his hand until it felt right. Like an arrow, the sign escaped Geralt's hand to fly straight to its target. The tall monster stopped in its track, eyes blinking and confused. Strange and eerie lights danced in its gaze. It looked at one of its monstrous compatriots and without any warning whatsoever, smashed it into the ground with its great club, making blood and flesh squirt in all direction.

The sudden bout of violence stopped all activity in the camp as the bokoblins looked at their tall brethren with horrified surprised. They reacted only when big monster aggressively walked towards another bokoblin, intending into attacking. A horn was blown, making Geralt and Maro winced as for the briefest of moment, their minds thought that the alarm had been blown for them. However, they were quickly reassured as another bokoblin was killed without any ceremony. Arrows started to rain upon the traitorous monster. One plunged into its flesh on the shoulder, eliciting a pained roar. With lumbering steps, it approached one of the wooden tower, grabbed a leg and pulled, bulging its muscles. The construct cracked and groaned as wood teared itself open, making the weak nails fly. It fell with the porcine cries of the red bokoblin.

The camp was in chaos as all of the bokoblins were now fighting one of their own. Maro tensed, ready to jump into action, Geralt stopped him.

"Wait, Maro. Wait for them to kill themselves. They are doing our job for us. The sign will still function for a bit."

The infighting had not stopped. A lance was stuck into the tall one flank as he crushed a new head into a pulp. Of the ten bokoblins there were now six. Geralt knew that the axii sign will soon stop working. If only one more monster could perish, the fight that awaited him and his companion would be a bit easier. Another arrow managed to hit the monster under his control. Sensing that it was now or never, he got out of his hiding place from under a bush, sliver sword out and glinting from the sun. Quickly making his way towards one of the monster, he cut it from the shoulder to the hip, parting flesh and bones.

With a shout full of wavering anger, Maro followed Geralt's example and attacked the closest monster, hitting it with force. However, it didn't went completely through, knocking the bokoblin out for a brief time. The hylian didn't waste time and whacked the downed monster with fury, killing it. The tall monster, which had been fighting its own kind, lost the strange lights in its eyes. Blinking once more as if waking from a dream, it stopped being confused when a sword pierced him. Roaring in pain, it slapped away the bokoblin that attacked him. Gone was the sort of camaraderie that tie the tall monster with the other. Hurt and angered, it used its club with two hands and destroyed it.

The combat was chaos. Geralt went for another and cut it down like the one before. Quen covered his body, just in case. The monsters, with their imbecilic eyes saw the new arrival and acted on it, while still trying to bring down the traitor in their ranks. In an act of expert swordplay, Geralt deflected the clumsy attempt on his life and separated the hand holding the halberd. Maro, even without having the same kind of expertise, knew his way around the field of combat. His shield wasn't just a tool for his defense, the blue eyed man used it as another weapon to hit and break bones. All the while, a dangerous air emanated from him as bubbling anger took hold if his hand as his blade went through a bokoblin's throat. His buckled broke the cranium of another monster. The moss-covered floor of the forest was now red tainted. Only one more bokoblin was still alive and it was this one, with dark skin kissed by the nights and red malicious eyes, that downed the tall one by opening its throat with a cleaver.

Unknown guttural curses were thrown towards Geralt and Maro, whose weapons were still drawn and bloodied. The last remnant of this camp attacked with ferocity. Unlike the recently deceased, this particular colored bokoblin knew how to fight. Its muscles bulged as it exchanged hit with Geralt while taking one from Maro and shrugging it, even if a jet of blood followed the arc of the hylian's sword. An opportunity presented itself to the witcher as the monster's blade and his were locked into a duel of strength. With the last of his energy, Geralt showered the face of the monster with hot sparks, hot enough to burn it, creating the smell of burned meat. Screaming as it just lost its eyes, the bokoblin started attacking around, not knowing where its opponent were.

Maro grabbed it from behind, away from its cleaver, and used his short sword as a dagger. He didn't stop at one stab, nor at two, not even at five. Geralt honestly lost the count.

"Hey, hey!" he called out to no effect. It was only after he grabbed Maro's wrist that stopped the hylian. "It's over, we won. No need for more killing."

Blue eyes shimmering with the flame of anger looked into the yellows of Geralt. The fire dimmed and the corpse was dropped without any care.

The field was littered with corpses of flesh and wood. The remnant of the watchtowers were strewn all over the place. Geralt wanted to take a trophy as proof and leave. However, his mutated eyes caught a reflection coming from inside the dome. Silver sword still out, he carefully entered and saw that what had caught his attention was an old and decrepit chest. The lock and metallic plating was eaten by rust. Pushing the lid open, he saw what he expected. Old weaponry barely even worth something was inside. Pushing aside old iron, Geralt's finger touched something that wasn't as rough as the rest. He grasped the thing and saw that it was an ornate sword. The handle and the guard was made of gold while the blade seemed to be still sharp. A bluish color danced on it when it was put into the sun's light.

Geralt was no expert in smithing and blade works. However, with the experience of the years with him, he could tell that what he had in his hand was an excellent sword of very good craftsmanship. However, even of the steel was impeccable, it was still steel. His sliver sword was still more effective when used against monsters. The ones in this world were no exceptions. He could have a good price when sold. Deciding to take it with him, he got out of the dome.

Maro was still in the clearing, sword in hand. The anger that had inhabited him previously was gone and bled through silent tears.

"Maro?" asked Geralt as he approached the hylian that had accompanied him into this.

" 's fine," he answered as he dried his eyes with a clean part of his sleeve. "Let's go."

* * *

The journey back to the Stable was uneventful. Maro, which had not been a talker during the first trip, was now even more taciturn. He seemed to be empty. Geralt didn't really know what to do or say. He was very old by normal human's standard, and yet he still had some trouble knowing how to act when faced with a specific situation. So, he opted to not do anything until the two of them were safe and sound behind the walls of the Stable.

The sun was still in the afternoon. Roach, which flank now held the head of the Moblin, which was the new monster's name as pointed out by Maro, was not upset by the bloody new package.

"Geralt! Maro! How nice it is to see you two still with us," exclaimed Almo as he was outside the walls, in the grass. "I see that your little hunt was a success. And..."

The jovial man didn't finish his sentence, seeing the state of Maro. He wanted to say something but the unresponsive hylian just made his horse walk, going back to the Stable.

"Is he going to be alright?" asked Geralt as Roach's muscles trembled and her tail whipped flies away. "Normally not really concerned but..." he searched the word for it as it wasn't something he had to usually express. "Maro, he seems to be empty, now."

"Now? How was he during the hunt?"

"I could almost smell the anger radiating from him. But now, it's gone."

The words didn't reassure Almo the slightest.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

* * *

"And a toast! To our new friend and savior, Geralt, for having taken care of the new monster camp in the forest! Cheers!" screamed a man, quite inebriated, as he held his cup high up, while standing on the table.

The inn erupted with happy cries and shouts, as beers and other alcoholic beverages flowed. The main person, to whom the little fest was thrown for, was a bit put off by it. Geralt of Rivia was not accustomed to this kind of reaction for when he did his job. With the number of heavy pats that had been given to him, his shoulder was going to have an imprint on it, or at least be sore the next morning.

It would be a lie to say that the sudden feisty fest had been created only for Geralt's deed. It just so happened that today, of all day, was a sort of sacred. So a party was launched naturally. The women wore flowers in their hair, as well as a few men. In the center of little rickety town, in front of the Stable, was three pillars, arranged so to form a triangle, while a fourth was in the perfect place so that the distance between each pole was the same. Garlands of red, green, blue and yellow linked each pillars. People danced between them, holding hands forming a long chain which snaked around and through the new constructions.

He still got paid by the merchant. His purse sported now the new currency in its strange form. Small stones, which at first looked like any precious stones from his own world, were one of the only way to buy things in Hyrule. A mug of beer was in his hand as his eyes followed the dancers, in particular the hips of a young woman.

"I hope that the sudden fest wasn't a bad surprise for you, Geralt." said Zabu, approaching from the bar with another mug of beer in his hand. "Your timing was perfect. And another year of safety from the Calamity just passed. It's perfect for celebration! Don't you agree?" he laughed while a mustache of foam stained his upper lip.

"Yeah," agreed Geralt, not knowing what he was referring to.

"Happy to see you agree. At least, the party here is not like the ones thrown by those nutjobs of Centralists. I have never seen people so stubborn."

Sensing that Zabu was quite drunk, making his tongue loose, Geralt pressed a bit for more information, while making sure to not raise any suspicion upon him. He didn't know how people would react to him being an outsider of this world.

"How so? I heard some good things about them."

"What? Who told you that?" took offense the drunk hylian. "They burn their skin with bluish fluids from Guardians to make tattoos! Who is insane enough to get close to those monstrosities?"

He was going to continue the conversation if it was not for someone to grab Zabu and take him into the conga line. He saluted Geralt, drank his mug in one gulp and was gone, dancing. Everything was fine while the people danced and drank. The sun, still being lazy in the sky, projected shadows that throughout Woodland's Stable. A deep cultured voice, which put iced in his blood called him.

"Well, look what do we have here. A new face, eh?"

For a second, Geralt had his whole body locked up from shock. His heart had stopped, before going overboard into pumping blood throughout his system. A bald man was in front of him, a smirk on his face with a flower-crown on his head. However, the smug expression that he sported quickly melted when faced by Geral't intense eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that? You look like you seen a ghost or something."

"Nothing, just was reminded of a bad experience." answered Geralt to the unknown man. Sweat ran down his brow to his cheek, which he quickly dried with his hand.

"Sorry 'bout that. You're not the only one that seems to be afraid of little ol' me. Dunno if it's me face or 'nother thing, people are always afraid of me at first. Sorry, still have not introduced myself. Me name's Gaut."

"Geralt."

"Wait, you're that new guy, righ'? The one that killed those monsters? Thanks. Now the roads are a bit more safe. The less of those bastards, the happier I am. So, again, thanks."

"Just doing my job. Nothing special." answered Geralt as he took a sip from his drink. It was a bit bubbly and fruity. However, the sweetness didn't drown the bitterness of alcohol. It accompanied it well, adding to the flavor.

"Why don't you go join the dance?"

"Not really a dancer," said Geralt.

"Am sure that you could even find someone special," added Gaut with a knowing smile and mirth in his eyes.

Geralt didn't know what to do. A young woman, pointy ears and white smile, looked at him with interest. As she went around one of the pillar and was in the witcher's field of view,, she sent him an inviting smile. She had hair like gold and eyes like a pond. The alcohol in his system helped him in his decision. And with one last gulp from his cup, Geralt got up and joined the dance.

* * *

The night had been short with its twists and turns. What happened under the sheets was unknown to all. Only the stars were the witnesses to two worlds meeting and colliding. The moon looked at the land with the same silver as Geralt's own sword.

The night had really been to short as the sun soon took the place of the moon

* * *

Everyone who was up at this hour of the morning all sported the telltale signs of a headache associated with a hangover. Geralt, for his part, didn't share this sore state. He was up and eating, no pain except a certain relaxation that covered him while he felt his muscles holding a pleasant soreness all over.

His partner to last night's dance had disappeared like a dream, leaving him as soon as the dawn broke. He didn't knew who she was nor if she was an inhabitant of this Stable. All that he knew was that she wasn't a beginner in the art of the dance under the stars.

A groan from an adjacent table provoked a chain reaction of painful murmurs. More grumbling happened when someone pushed aside the tent's flap, allowing the sun's rays to enter the shadowed inn. It was Almo, wearing worried face.

"Geralt, have you seen Maro?" he asked. "I did not like his absence from yesterday's festivities. And I cannot find him this morning."

"No. Should we try to find him?"

"Yes. I really hope it is not what I think it is."

"What are you talking about?" said Geralt as he followed Almo outside the walls, having taken Roach with him while Almo was riding Bubu, his warpig.

"He has not been the same since what happened a few weeks ago," answered the hylian, not helping Geralt.

The witcher mulled over that before he asked for clarification. However, his demand died on his lips as he noticed the place Almo had brought him to. Hidden away from the Woodland's Stable, behind a line of shrubberies, were two graves marked with sticks. On each of them had been engraved with the names _Miria_ and _Sali._

"He hasn't been the same after what happened to them," explained Almo with a mournful look. "I managed to talk a bit with Maro before he disappeared. He told me that you were an excellent tracker."

"You want me to find him?"

"Yes, but we must be quick. I fear the worse."

"Alright then. However, what would help me would be if you have something that belonged to him. With his scent, I would be able to find him."

The shake from the hylian's head was not what Geralt hoped. However, all was not lost, as when he had been brought to here, he saw some grass that had been trampled on recently. Crouching, Geralt started to follow the foot print. Seemed to be recent, as the light print in the dirt told him so. Around a tree, something seemed to be stuck on a stub. A piece of cloth, torn when someone ran past it in a hurry. The person, which was certainly Maro, was not being pursued, as the only recent track was his. Concentrating, Geralt pass the cloth I front of his nose, memorizing the smell. Traces of alcohol, accompanied by a tint of pine tree. With this mix now in his nose, Geralt went on the hunt.

"You found something?" asked Almo.

Geralt ignored him as he follow the scent. The more he followed it, the more the witcher smelled alcohol. Soon, on his way, he found an empty bottle, thrown away. The footprint were now irregular. Near a big stone, he saw a big patch of grass flattened. Maro had to fall here before he got up and continued.

The pursuit kept on until Geralt heard sobbing coming from behind a line of trees. Getting out of the forest, he and Almo arrived on the scene of a broken man, tears flowing freely as he contemplated the void in front of the cliff. Sniffing, Maro turned around and looked at them with empty eyes. His tears soon stopped.

"Don't come any closer, please," he pleaded within a hiccup as he took a step behind, now a few feet from the drop.

"Maro, I know that you are in a bad place right now. But please, by the Princess, step away from the edge," said Almo at first with urgency. However he quikcly calmed himself, wanting to not aggravate the situation further. "I am here. _We_ are here for you. You know that, right?"

"There is nothing for you to do. There is nothing for me to do anymore," said Maro somberly.

Geralt looked at the scene passively. The suicidal hylian was completely broken. He should have seen this coming. Even before he knew his name, he could have guessed what was happening when he saw him two days ago, looking into the empty seats in front of him from his table. Then there was the hunt for the nest. The barely contained anger, the fury with which he stabbed and killed. And after the deed was done, all that was left of him was a husk, empty of emotion. Geralt put one of his hand behind his back, preparing to cast _axii_ should the need arise.

"Maro, you still got life ahead of you. I know that losing your wife and child made the world a lot whole darker, but you need to live. Live for _them_."

Those words spoken by Almo seems to anger the other hylian.

"But they are not here anymore!" shouted Maro before his voiced fell, tired. "They're gone. How do you do it, Almo? How do you live after losing your family?"

A mournful look appeared on Almo's face as he remembered an ancient time.

"I didn't at first. All I wanted was to not be alone anymore, to joined them in the golden fields. However, I didn't. I knew that they were far from pain and sorrow. And that faith helped me. The faith of once the growing dark will be banished by the wielder of the sword. My faith in the Princess and her chosen knight helped me. It helped me and maybe it will for you too," soothingly said Almo. "But it doesn't have to be faith. It can be your friends. I am your friend, Maro. And if you look around you, you will see that you are not alone."

Maro closed his eyes as tears fell.

"They were my sun and star, Almo. Without them, I am but a shadow."

"Maro, don't!"

As the hylian was going to let the chasm take him. Geralt acted quickly, throwing his hand, casting his sign. Phantasmagorical light danced around Maro's head, making stop just before the edge.

"Come to us. Carefully."

Maro, under Geralt's spell, shuffled as if drunk towards them. Once the distance between him and the cliff was enough, Almo rushed to Maro's sides, grasping him gently by the shoulders. The way back had been tranquil until the sign wore off. When it happened, the hylian broke down and wept as Almo gently comforted him. Once it was sure that Maro was tucked in his bent asleep, Geralt and Almo sat down in front of the tent.

"Thank you," said Almo. "If it wasn't for you, he would be on his way to the golden fields."

Geralt didn't answer but nodded.

"He is going to need time to heal. It's not going to be easy or fast, but he will in the end. I'm sure of it."

The two of them stayed, looking at the setting sun. Orange and gold danced before they disappeared, leaving the world until the next day.

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 **Hello, here is Littleswiss. During this story, I haven't really made a note. I see that this story is a little bit popular. However, all that I see is follows and favorites. What I am going to ask can seem to be a bit selfish, but I would really apreciate to see more reviews. Because without them, I do not know if what I am doing is good or not. Hope that you'll understand. Until next time!**


	6. Bonus Chapter

**Bonus Chapter (Canon status pending)**

The state of affair in the Old Continent was in turmoil for some of the highest in the political sphere. However, for the peasant, which had only to worry about the coming harvesting season, the mysterious vanishing of a well-known witcher wasn't their priority. That is why, after having interrogated for the fourth time villagers in the county of Toussaint, Yennefer of Vengeberg, sorceress and ancient lover, was frustrated beyond belief. This feeling had wormed its way into her being slowly and insidiously. It had built up from the moment she and Geralt shared on that boat stranded on the top of a mountain and he said those words that cut her down and made her feel miserable. And she had not even someone to blame for their break up. No. Geralt had decided to forgo intimate relationship on the long term. It didn't mean he wasn't intimate at all from what she heard. But it had been just that, brief instants where two became one before one became two once again. And when she had heard, through his own butler nonetheless, that Geralt had disappeared, swallowed by a mysterious mist, it had been what broke the camel's back.

"For the last time, mistress Yennefer, we don't know where he vanished to," said an old man, gripping his walking stick with a trembling hand due to his age. "The last that I saw the man was when he helped us by killing that strange big lizard, that's what he did. It was sir Chovrik that contracted him."

"And where could I see this man?" asked Yennefer, making sure to keep the annoyance out her voice.

"Sir Chovrik? Well, probably at his house. 's the one on the hill, just there. You can't miss it."

Biding farewell to the aged man, Yennefer walked towards the house which had been indicated to her. With her clothes all in black, her violet eyes and raven shoulder-long hair, she cut a most certainly intimidating figure. If not, she may look like a raven, bringing bad omen in its way. People of the country side quickly saluted the sorceress before they went back to their home. However, in this part of Toussaint, even of the common folk were superstitious, her presence wasn't the cause of their skittishness. No, it had been because of the sudden surge of strange new monsters which terrorized the land. Oh, they weren't numerous but they compensated their lack of numbers by a ferocity and destructiveness that could rivaled a very well armed army.

Knocking on the front door of the little villa, Yennefer waited impatiently until the mans she wanted to see answered the door. Even with the sun at its zenith, sir Chovrik was still in his nightgown. Bleary eyes filled with sleep rapidly lost their drowsiness when they saw her.

"What is it?" he said suspicious.

"Sir Chovrik? I am Yennefer of Vengerberg and I have question that I _hope_ you can answer."

The man gained a more cautious look with her question.

"What is that you need, madame of Vengerberg? I am but a humble merchant trying to make a living in this dangerous world."

The sorceress managed not to roll her eyes.

"I have question about Geralt of Rivia. It has come to my attention that you made a contract with him regarding a new monster. Is that right? Can you tell me what exactly happened?"

Sir Chovrik, for a moment, gained a pensive look as he tried to remember.

"Ah, yes. While I was coming back from a trip outside of Toussaint with new merchandises, I crossed the path of a thing. It wasn't a dragon per se, although it was almost the case. It was enormous, with scales like armor and teeth like swords. It breathed fires as it tried to torched me alive! By some miracles, I managed to escape without a hair harmed."

"What did it look like?"

"As big as a two stories house. Yellow scales and red horns. No wings and four legs. And very aggressive until I was out of the patch of forest where it stayed."

"And when did it appeared? It couldn't have been here for long. From what you just described the beast to be, it couldn't hide forever."

"Well, it had been a lot foggier that last year, that's for sure," said sir Chovrik.

The mist. Yennefer knew that it was the catalyst of this accident. However, she hasn't found anything when she asked for favors from old 'friends'. Even Ciri, the Emmpress of the Nilfgaardian Empire and hersurrogate daughter, had just found some flimsy lines in an old dusty tome in the imperial library. And even that hadn't help them shine light upon this new mystery.

"Are you _sure_ there wasn't anything else strange? Think carefully."

"Well, there is something. It's probably nothing. Just an odd fellow that set up shop in town. He has a bit of a creepy smile. Besides that, he probably wants to go for Beauclaire, I think."

What would a merchant would help her? Thought Yennefer. However, it wouldn't hurt to see the new addition in Toussaint. Without saying goodbye to sir Chovrik, the sorceress walked away, towards the center of the town.

The town-square, where traveling merchants set up shop in hope of emptying their more common merchandise and keeping their more valuable wares for the capital, was where Yennefer was. On the cobble place, someone new had pitched his tent for all to see his stand and what he was selling, which was a bit of a surprise for this part of the world.

A tent made of purple cloth with some golden trimmings had been constructed with expert hands. There was even a wooden stand where some of the merchandise was exposed for all to see. The rest rested on shelves in the back. Shadows protected the salesman and what was further in the back with a wall of darkness. Some curious townsfolk looked at a distance the merchandises while the owner of the ephemeral shop looked at them with closed eyes and a smile plastered on his face. His hands were joined while his back was hunched, as if he had to carry a great weight most of his life.

It wasn't the small uneasiness that crept upon her that gave Yennefer pause. It was the two small pointy ears that jutted from the salesman head. And the people around the raven haired sorceress didn't seem to pay mind to this. A courageous townsman approached the stand. This action seemed to delight the salesman, which made him speak.

"Ah, my kind sir. Welcome to my little and humble shop. I see that my wares seems to hold you in interest. Well, do not worry, I have a mask for each and every occasions. Do not be shy, my kind sir, tell me what you are searching for." said the salesman with a voice that was like butter. However, the smoothness of his articulation held a hidden edge to it.

"Ah, uh. Do you have something that might help my daughter?"

This made Yennefer frown. How could mask help someone, other than hide their identity? Even then, if one's had an enough sharp look, a simple mask couldn't be of any help to find someone's true name.

"Hoho, of course, my kind sir. Let me have a look first. Do you have your daughter with you, by chance? It would be a lot easier for me to find the right mask."

The man, still not reacting to the man's demeanor, called his child. She was a small thing. Quite young too. She didn't reached her father's hip. Clutching his pants, she looked at the salesman.

"Now tell me, child, what is that you want, hmm?" said the merchant as he opened just a tiny bit his eyes, which had been closed until now. What Yennefer saw was something that didn't put her at ease. Behind the previously closed eyelids, were eyes black as coals. They held a rare intensity that seemed to penetrate someone's being. The spell ended rapidly and the elf was back to his happy self.

"Oh, I see. Other children do no want to leave you alone, do they? And you want them to stop. On that case I should have the mask just for the occasion," he turned around and started to search for something. "No, not that one. Neither this one. Oh, on second thought, not that one either. Aha!" he exclaimed, turning around, holding a mask which looked like a rock. "Here is your solution, my kind little girl."

"A mask?" she questioned, confused.

"Yes a mask." the salesman walked around the counter before kneeling on front of the man's daughter. "It doesn't look like much, that I agree. But here it is where its power shines. When you want to be alone, to not be bothered by those bad children, wear it. However, be sure that no one can see you before you put it on. Come on, go in the back to try it."

The little girl, with her messy brown hair, looked at her father for guidance and went in the back of the tent, where the shadows lied, after she received a comforting nod from her father. And after some times had passed nothing happened. Yennefer didn't know what she expected to happen, but it was as boring as looking at a rock. So she went back to the merchant and the man while at the back at her head, something kept nagging her about the situation. Knowing to trust this kind of feeling, she concentrated. Something in the area was like a blanket, covering the perception of everyone here, even her. And the more she paid attention, the more this thing became clearer until she understood. The strange magic that had taken control of her perception broke and her violet eyes saw the little girl wearing the ugly stone-mask while she stayed next to her father, trying to get his attention. The salesman turned gently his head towards where his client's daughter was and subtly signed her to take off the mask.

A gasp escape the assembly. Yet, there wasn't panic, people seems surprised, as if they were assisting to some mundane magic show. Some even applauded. Once the father paid for the mask, it was as if the invisible gate that stopped everyone from approaching had been opened. People almost pushed against one another to be the next. The salesman's smile grew as he took each demand with aplomb and professionalism. Yennefer couldn't try to talk to the elf without using her magic to make place so she opted to wait, even if that annoyed her further. It was only after the sun had significantly dipped and that the cobbled plaza emptied that the sorceress was able to approach the merchant.

"Ah, I was wondering when you will come." said the merchant, his hands still held together.

"You were expecting me? How?"

"Well, you had been waiting for almost an hour, behind my previous clients. So, my kind madam, how this humble merchant may be of service, hmm? Maybe a mask is what you are searching for. No, not this. You are searching for answers and I have the specific mask for this, just please bear with me while I am searching for it, it will not be long, I assure you."

As he turned around, giving Yennefer no time for a rebuttal, her eyes looked at the stand where some masks were laid. There was one in the shape of a fox, another made from some feathers, an other one was just a band from which two long rabbit ears grew. They were special as a faint trace of magic in them, a strange one which she wasn't used to. However, soon she saw a mask which had not been there before. Compared to the others, it was something that contrasted with all of the wares of the salesman.

Its form, almost heart shaped but with more width, and its color, purple, caught the eye. And speaking of which, the eyes of the mask were what caught Yennefer's attention in the first place. Deep soulless yellow looked at her violet ones. Colored spikes were on the top and on the cheeks. The sorceress didn't even notice when the object was now in her hands. A creeping sensation crawled from her fingers, then climbed her hands, went through her arms. It was cold and sinister and yet empty. It wasn't magic, a curse or even a charm. This coldness kept growing until it passed by her neck, making the hair on it dressed. A cold sweat pearled from her forehead and neck. It wasn't magic. The mask was empty of everything. Her magical senses didn't pick anything but her natural ones, the ones which all living creatures were dotted at their birth, the instinct live inhere to all, was awoken inside her. It told her to leave the object. It told her to drop it, throw it, run from it. But she couldn't. She couldn't because it was empty so there wasn't anything to be afraid of...

"I see you have found this old thing?" asked the merchant, liberating her from her trance. "I don't think you should buy it, it wouldn't go well with you. Anyways, my kind madam, here is the promise mask."

What the merchant gave her in exchange for the mask she gripped in her hands was a thing made from a white substance similar to clay, shaped in a form close to a tear. A giant eye crying a single red tear, looked back at her. It didn't held the same emptiness as the other one.

"For this one, I am willing to make you a sympathetic offer. I will give it to you for free. However, next time we will see each other, you will give it back to me. Does that seems fair to you?"

She could only nod, still recuperating from what happened. So it was with her head confused and her senses in complete disarray, that Yennefer of Vengerberg, went back to the inn she was staying at and commanded the best wine and the best bath.

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 **Here is a little something that I threw while my imagination ran wild. I don't know how canon this little bit is, so until I decid otherwise, treat this little text as in the nebulous state of not canon.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: The Road of Possibilities**

Geralt of Rivia, witcher thrust into an other world than his own, was in the middle of preparing his horse, Roach, for the road. After having saved an hylian from his own misery, the witcher had decided to leave and explore. A part of him, which had seem quite dead, had awoken after years of slumber. Having nothing else to do but retake the Path, he told Almo and Zabu, to the chagrin of those two. However, after making sure that was what Geralt wanted to do, the two hylian men accepted his decision with cheer, to the surprise of the witcher. He was still not used to being quite accepted and welcomed anywhere.

"Are you sure you want to leave, witcher?" asked a hylian man, big as he was tall, the owner of the inn. "We could use someone of your profession against the monsters."

"Maybe. But I need to travel. And before I arrived, you seemed to have everything in order."

"True. Ah, who am I to deny a fellow man when the road is calling him? Do as you want, witcher. I hope the Princess will protect you from the evil within and without."

"I didn't take you for a religious man."

"In those times, religion can a source of comfort. Oh, and before you leave I would like to make a small contribution in helping your journey. Here," said the innkeeper as put a small sack full of rupees into the hand of Geralt. And before he could say anything, the innkeeper closed his hand on the sack while nodding.

"Thank you."

The hylian bade the witcher farewell and went back to his establishment, stating that he had business to attend to. Yellow eyes like the ones of a cat looked at the retreating back before they turned toward the mare that neighed gently and reassuringly, strangely enough.

"You seem awfully intelligent for a horse," said Geralt while he passed his hand on the mane, caressing the skin underneath it to the delight of Roach. While he kept petting the neck, Geralt remembered a strange moment of his life, which was made even more strange with the consumption of a special concoction, which made the Roach of this specific time very talkative for a horse.

A sudden incomprehensible grumble made him stop caressing Roach's mane, which she didn't like as a soft neigh escaped her. Coming from somewhere else in the Woodland's Stable, 'Ma arrived, back crooked and eyes ever squinted. She mumbled something that even Geralt's enhanced senses couldn't pick up. She kept mumbling before she suddenly stopped, raised an old and gray eyebrow and looked behind her. Far away, a figure ran as if a horde was in pursue of him. Boli stopped abruptly, creating a cloud of dust and sand. The young hylian didn't say anything, just holding a finger to have enough time to catch his breath. After that, he nodded to his grandmother.

"She said that she wanted to see you one last time before you left," translated Boli. "She also want to give you her soup."

As those words were translated, Old 'Ma held a bottle filled with said soup. Remembering how it affected him the first time he tried it, Geralt gladly accepted, making Old 'Ma smile as she tapped his hand with affection.

"And I also wanted to say somethin' to you, mister Geralt. Thank you for helping me. I will not forge' it anytime soon. So, if you should come around again, do not hesitate to visit us, alrigh'?"

"Thanks," said Geralt, he meant it. "But have you seen Almo or Zabu?"

"No, I haven't"

Old Ma grumbled something.

"They are still watching over Maro. They asked her to tell you they wish you the best," translated Boli. Old Ma added something which her grandson interpreted immediately. "Oh and did you have the map they gave you?"

"Have it right here," said the witcher as he tapped a pouch on him.

"Then you have everything you need. We will stop bothering you so you can finally go. Stay safe and may the Three Virtues be with you."

Waving goodbye, Geralt of Rivia left the Woodlands Stable behind, following the road of the south, searching for a way of going home. He knew that the solution was not in these parts of the world. His instincts told him so and mayhaps he would find it in the south.

* * *

A few hours went by as Roach stepped on the dusty road, the sun had marked midday by passing at its utmost place into the blue sky. However, this clement weather was not meant to last as a wall of dark and heavy clouds were advancing on the horizon, like a great mass of darkness ready to plunge the land into the madness of thunders and rain.

Geralt had not met any monsters since he left the Stable behind. And yet he was still wary. Not of the potentiality of coming face to face with a bokoblin or a moblin or any other kind of monster, but of the storm brewing on the horizon. Great clouds as black as the night grew far away. The hair on his neck gently rising warned him that when the clouds would be here, the damaged caused by the thunder were going to be tremendous. And all the metallic parts that he was wearing, meaning his swords, the buckles rings from the horse's bridle would cause as much thunder as if Geralt was engulfed in plate armor from head to toe. There was some good news, however. From his estimation, the storm was not going to hit his location before a few hours, so he had plenty of time to find shelter.

His trained ears caught the flapping of wings in the wind. Looking up as a shadow passed over him, Geralt saw a bird, quite a big one, flying overhead. Then, the creature became more and more clear as it approached. It wasn't just a bird, but a bird with a form resembling the one of a man, or a hylian since it was what was called the people of this realm. The bird floated down until it touched the ground, creating puffs of dust and sand around it.

The birdman that stood before Geralt didn't have any arm, for it had wings the color of sand. Strangely enough, its wings were also used as arms. The biggest feathers were used as hands and fingers. The how and why such a thing was possible was lost to Geralt, even with his experience when it came to monsters and other otherworldly creatures.

"Ah, hello hello!" greeted the bird. "Say, I have a letter for a certain Geralt of Rivia. A fellow said to have white hair and eyes the same yellow of a cat. You seem to match the description. Are you this 'Geralt'?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. Here is the letter."

Taking the scroll, Geralt undid the small string and tried to read its content. He tried not because the hand that had written the words was unsteady or had a particular bad handwriting, but because all that the witcher saw was meaningless inky squiggles. The letter of this alphabet were as unknown to him as was the said alphabet.

"You do know how to read, right sir?"

Faced with the lack of answer from Geralt, the birdman made a strange chirping sound akin to a gasp.

"Here, let me read it to you." he coughed, preparing his voice.

" _Geralt,_

 _Sorry to sent you a letter so soon_ _but I forgot to tell you that I send word of you ahead to some friends of mine should you ever stop at_ _the Foothill Stable, which is East from here. Just Follow the road but do not cross the bridge that you will surely see if you continue. This is the door step to the Central Plains, where only death and madness await. I know that you can swing your blade like no other I have ever seen but the things there can destroy everything that stand on their path._ _And the few that decided to still live there are not known for their rationality and with your appearance, they will not think twice before branding you an agent of the Calamity. I mean no offense writing this and I hope you understand my point._

 _Anyway, do not be alarmed should people know who you are if you stop at any Stable. Word travel fast with the postbirds._

 _Take care,_

 _Zabu."_

"Quite the friend you have there I must say, mister," said the birdman as he rolled the scroll up before giving it to Geralt. "I know that it's not my place to say this, but maybe try to find someone that could teach you the basics?"

Geralt would have been annoyed at this remark if it wasn't for the friendliness of the letter. He had still trouble wrapping his head around the fact that he seemed to be in the people's good grace.

"Well, my job here is done and letters await their receivers. And away I go!"

With one mighty flap of his wings, the bird-man took off into the blue sky after a brief "bye-bye!", leaving Geralt alone with a rolled up scroll he couldn't read. Roach shook its mane as the gulf of air made her breath a bit of dust. Gently patting her neck. Geralt soothed her worry. Grasping the reign, he and Roach went back to traveling along the old road of cracked mud.

* * *

A few hours later and the menace of the roiling storm grew. The sun, shiny and gold, had given up space for the deep dark clouds full of rain. The wind had picked up as well and the silver strand of Geralt's hair whipped around his head. Rolling mass of dry leaves heaved into the air before crashing a bit farther. A few early drops had fallen from the dark carpet above while it hadn't started to rain. The witcher needed to find shelter and soon because if he didn't want to be soaked to the bones, it was now or never.

He finally found a group of trees which where close enough to form a roof with their branches. Passing the bridle around the small trunk of a sapling, everything went white for the briefest of instant. Soon, the flash was gone and replaced by the booming of the thunder cracking the air in half. The violence with which it happened almost spooked Roach. She winced but managed to stay calm. The mare was a surprising member of her species to Geralt. Many of his past steed would have panicked under such a storm.

Thousands upon thousand of fat drops fell from the skies, assaulting the earth with previously unseen violence. Some patches of earth broke and exploded into mud. The sounds of rain hitting the leaves of his shelter brought relief to Geralt's being as his muscles relaxed. He even filled his water-skin with the freshest of water one could ask, directly coming from the clouds, free of any impurity that could spell bad health to anyone unlucky enough to fall ill.

Thunder boomed once more, always trailing after lightning as it would never managed to catch up to it. This abrupt change in the weather made it difficult to know exactly at what point in the day Geralt was. He grinned and bore it, as it gave him a moment of respite. His mind wandered off to the people that he left behind as he crossed the barrier separating worlds apart. Ciri, knowing her, would have heard of it by know, meaning that she had thrown herself into finding where he had gone and how to get him back. A fleeting thought arrived unannounced. A thought which brought an unpleasant memory attached to someone he knew very well. They had their time together and yet, in the end, things changed as their ought to do, whether people want it or not. What had been a raging inferno of passion and love had tarnished and died, leaving only cold ashes. It could theoretically give birth to a new fire but such a thing was only possible in the realm of dreams.

The witcher also thought on what he could do. Having taken the decision of taking the Path once more, albeit on an other earth, he still had hope of returning to his home, where his friends and family were waiting for him. Passing a hand into his white hair, he sighed he started to breath into the same rhythm which had been beaten into him when he was just a young boy. There was something strange which hadn't been picked up by him while he was meditating. The darkness behind his closes eyes receded when a deep white mist, not at all similar to the one that had swallowed and spitted him here, appeared. It was a mist the same color of the purest snow laying atop the highest of peak. A rumble, primal and oozing a sentiment of hate so strong it would have made him breathless if it wasn't for the intervention of shining lights which promptly drove out the hate. The white floating stripes of the fog disappeared and only soothing lights shined upon Geralt. His body, the one sitting against the tree, was frozen while his spirit bear witness to a human form being birthed from the light.

The shining figure standing before him was clearly female. He didn't know how he knew that since the form didn't have any characteristic which could distinguish a gender from another. A sensation pressured itself against Geralt's eyes as visions flashed in quick succession across his vision. He saw a man, as tall as he was cruel, hair like fire, being born and dying again and again, all the time by means unnatural and by sheer force of will. Each time he arrived on this land, calamity followed. Death and misery were sewn like grains in a field. More and more pictures of this man, sometime also under the guise of an inhuman monster, were crammed into the witcher's head. All of this, with no words spoken, lead to Geralt realizing that all of those images had meaning, a purpose.

He saw fields soaked in the blood of the innocent as forests burned. He saw men, women and children being brought down by sword and spears. He saw their cries, asking for deliverance from this tyranny. In answer to those prayers, at different times and places, two, one of green and one of blue, stood against one of red. For times and times again, the two fought the one. They fought as twilight swallowed the world, as water ate the land, as darkness reigned supreme. No matter how many times the two were victorious, the one of red came back with more anger and hate than last time, be it monster or newborn.

He saw a monster made of shadows that roiled and moved, animated by a red tainted anger, held back by the same light composing the figure in front of him. Geralt saw that the shine of gold was weakening as time passed but it had enough strength to be the wall between malice and life for years to come. Finally, as the witcher felt his awakening arriving, he saw a baby boy held in the arms of his mother.

His eyes were like made of lead as they were so heavy to open but when he managed to do it, his pupils immediately shrank into slits as the morning shines in his face. Trying to get his bearings, Geralt noticed that he was soaked from head to toe, not from the rain but from sweat. Roach hadn't moved from her position. She neighed gently seeing him awake. He felt as if something important happened but he couldn't remember what.

"Easy Roach, I'm here."

The day was still going strong. The storm had passed and the only traces of it were the dew collected in the grass and the puddles of muddy water having appeared everywhere. Getting up, Geralt followed the road once more.

* * *

The bridge which Zabu had warned him about in his letter. Bearing old cracks and weeds, the bridge was still standing strong even after being assaulted by the elements and by times. He also saw a small group made of three people and one of them made him stop in his track, halting Roach in the process. A woman, the tallest one he has ever seen, with skin the shade of deep bronze and hair the same color of blood, stood next to a portly man with pointy hair with one of the biggest pair of arms Geralt has ever seen. The woman reminded him of the companions of Borch Three Jackdaws, the last known golden dragon in existence in the Continent, yet she was towering over everyone. There was also another man, built like a skinny cat also with pointy ears. All of them were on foot and armed

"Stranger! Hel… hah! Monster!" screamed the skinny hylian as he took his sword.

His screams alerted his companion. The portly man immediately turned around and bulked up, holding his beefy arms in a boxer defense whereas the tall amazonian woman, took out a well made scimitar as well as an ornate round shield.

Staying where he was, Geralt, and the trio of wanderers gazed each other, trying to gauge the intention of the other. The paranoia, which was an old and unwanted friend of his, had came back with a vengeance. He could see the fear when facing an unknown individual. His hair and his eyes didn't help to alleviate the apprehension Geralt could see in their eyes. Rustling in the bushes near the road draw everyone's attention. Something big, with an even bigger backpack, arrived on the road and stopped in its track. It had skin like caked dirt, even bigger than the woman build like a statue. Its arms where as thick as the width of Geralt's torso. And yet, even with a size similar to the trolls the witcher was familiar with, the leg seemed to be twigs when compared to the rest of the body of the rock-monster. Beady black eyes blinked when it saw the tensed position of everyone.

"Uh, is it a bad time to take the road?" it asked in a rumble.

The innocuous question thrown into the air had the effect of easing the tensed atmosphere.

"Well, that depends on mister scary face here," declared the muscled hylian, shaking his head in the direction of Geralt. " 'Cause if he wants to have a bad time, he's gonna taste these hands."

"I am not here to harass or attack, I am just passing by for the next Stable."

The woman, leaned forward as to be on the same level as the hylian that made the promise of bodily harming him with his naked hands and whispered into his ears. After a back and forth between the two, the bulky hylian relaxed his stance.

"Stranger, your words seems true, but your face does not bode good faith, no offense," said the skinny hylian. The sack he was carrying clinked as bottles were knocked against one another.

"None taken. And you would not be the fist one to judge me on that."

"Should I go?" asked the stoneman.

"I can see why. Well, we can all see that. But this doesn't answer the question on what should we do. We are not to keen on letting you travel with us. I hope you understand where we coming from. The road is filled with hidden danger."

Geralt did see their point. They weren't from the Woodlands' Stable after all, and Zabu's letter had said he sent word for the other Stable. These people didn't know of this.

"I know, and yet I still need to go to the Foothill Stable."

"Well, what a coincidence, so do we," replied the heavy set hylian with clear sarcasm.

"My love, do not be so aggressive," admonished the tall woman. "You always trusted my instinct and I feel that we can trust him."

Unintelligible grumbling arose from the hylian as his hairy eyebrows danced while he was weighting his paranoia against his lover's feelings. Finally, his eyebrows set down into a frown before he spoke.

"Alright then, you can travel with us. But hear this, at the smallest hint of betrayal, my hands are going to fly. Anyways, my name's Arlo. That's my wife, Gagala. And the skinny one is my brother, Orla."

"A pleasure to meet you."

"The same and sorry about screaming."

"And I'm Mogga."

All turned their head to look at the monster made of stone presented itself in a polite manner.

"Ah, forgot about you, Goron. My apologies," said the woman.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It happened all the time. And what about you, white-hair?"

"I'm Geralt."

* * *

To say that everything was going great would have been a lie as, even after the suspicion against Geralt had subsided a tad bit, there was still a certain mistrust floating in the air. Roach felt it and didn't appreciate this state of mind being shared by all. Gagala manifestly felt it too. She tried to keep the conversation going.

"Say, Geralt. Where do you come from? We haven't seen someone like you before. Your hair and the air of battle surrounding you would let me believe that you were part of the famed Sheikah," said casually Gagala as she strode next to her diminutive husband.

The witcher didn't immediately as he took notice, once again, how the tanned-skin woman was the tallest person her has ever seen. Not only that, but she put to shame the guardswoman in Kerack all those years ago when it came to her physique. As she walked, she let her hands rest briefly on her stomach.

"Not really. I come from The Woodlands Stable."

"Ah, I see. So you decided to give traveling another chance," Gagala explained.

She was also very perceptive when it came to understanding people. That was a dangerous combination when put with the fact she held herself like an experienced warrior.

"More or less. What about you two?"

"Oh. Well, I come from the Gerudo Desert, as all Gerudos do. I wanted to see the world and find a husband. I did both," she said as a smile graced her lips while she looked at Arlo who looked away as his cheeks were ever so lightly red.

"Crazy woman," murmured Arlo as he took his wife's hand in his own and held it lovingly. "As for me, I am a Nordling and proud of it. Born and raised at the Snowfield Stable."

"Same as him but I hate the cold. That's why I managed to convinced my brother to travel," added Orla.

" 'Coming back from a trip down south near the ocean."

"Ah! Mogga, sorry, I forgot about you for a moment."

The goron moved his hand as if moving aside the Orla's concern.

"And why are you going to the Foothill Stable?" asked Geralt in return to Gagala's questioning.

"The wrestling tournament?" guessed Mogga.

"Exactly," confirmed Gagala.

"I suppose that you are going to participate, Arlo?" asked Geralt.

"Me? No. But he is," answered the burly hylian as he pointed at his brother.

The witcher was not going to ask why the skinnier of the two was going to wrestle tournament, he took Arlo at his word and moved on with the discussion.

"Don't try to hide that you not believing me on it."

The tone with which the burly hylian talked wasn't subtle with the annoyance. He still didn't trust Geralt. A fact the witcher was fine with. Arlo sometimes also subtly flexed in an attempt to intimidate him.

Geralt also learned more about Mogga's journey. The Goron was on a culinary trip, trying to find some new ingredients which could add a lot more option for his species' famous Rock Hard Food. At first he thought it was just a name but Mogga quickly corrected his first assumption by explaining that yes, meals in this specific category were made of literal rocks and as well as precious gems.

"I tried that once," interrupted Orla while scratching at his cheek. "Not to bad, a bit hard to chew."

"Oh, you tried my people's cooking? Tell me, what was it? Was it roasted ruby with spice? Sulfured silex or even Sapphire sautée?"

" 'can't remember right now, sorry about that. It will come back to me soon."

"Say, do any of you know how long do we have before we arrived? I'm not really good at judging distance and time."

"Well, it's been a few hours since we passe the bridge. So, I'd say tomorrow morning," answered Gagala calmly while still holding her husband's hand.

"You already went there?" asked Geralt.

"Yes. It isn't the first time we go to the Foothill Stable for the tourney. It is the second time we go. It is also were we met. Do you remember my love?"

"How could I? You kicked my ass so thoroughly I couldn't even sit well for two days," scoffed Arlo.

Arlo grumbled more as memories flood back into his mind as well as his cheeks. Gagala giggled at her husband embarrassment.

The group kept the same pace as they traveled along deep woods that seemed to have taken over old buildings that could be seen as their cubic structure were overrun with moss and plants. The sun was setting far over the distant mountains

"It's going to be a dry night," murmured Mogga. "Still, we should find shelter in case the rain decide to make a come back."

"You're right. I can almost hear the wind howling," added Geralt.

Deciding it was a good time to set up camps, Arlo asked everyone to help, even Geralt. He was still being watched over by an over suspicious hylian. It was a quick affair and soon, a fire pushed warm air into the wary traveler. Mogga just sat there, still wearing his comically size backpack. Orla was sprawled on his bed roll, a bottle in his hand, drinking what smelled like alcohol. Alro and Gagala were sitting together against a tree, basking into the fire's warmth. The witcher was also leaning against another tree, Roach by his side. The younger brother passed his bottle to Alro and before he took a swing he offered some to his wife, who lifted a hand from her belly to refuse before her hand joined the other in their resting place.

"Geralt," suddenly asked suddenly Gagala." Do you have any children?"

"What makes say that I have?" he answered.

"How you hold yourself. Your eyes are the ones who experienced taking care of one's offspring. They are gentle yet firm."

"To answer your question, I do. But she's gone, living her life full of responsibilities she doesn't like."

"As we do all. As all children who become adults must do. Life isn't fair and full of things we would rather not do we still must. That's what growing up is."

"I guess you're right. It's just I wish I could be a bit more present"

"Do you still see her? I know it can be difficult."

"Yes, I do. Rarely but I do," Geralt said in a whisper.

"So do not fret about what anything. You will see her again."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **Sorry about the hiatus. My only excuse was life and university preparation as well as its paperwork. Damn you paperwork! Anyways, I'm back. For how long? i'm not sure but I have a good feeling for at least two more chapters. See you then.**


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